The Hero Rises
by Random Equinox
Summary: When time has run out and the Reapers come to consume all in their path, then a hero must rise to lay old conflicts to rest, rally allies and enemies alike and challenge fate for the sake of the galaxy itself.
1. The Best Place on Earth

**Mass Effect 3: The Hero Rises **

_**Editorial Note**_

_In my maiden years, I sought and devoured anything and everything to do with the Protheans. What they were like as a people? What were their hopes and dreams? Of course, the biggest questions that consumed my thoughts for the better part of a century were shared by trillions of other sapients: What happened to them? Where did they go? Why did they disappear?_

_In 2183, I discovered the horrifying truth. About what really happened to the Protheans. How they met the same fate as countless other species, as part of a grim and horrific slaughter and harvest. A galaxy-wide invasion and genocide that occurred every fifty-thousand years or so. And worse, I learned that the cycle—our cycle—had come to an end. It was our turn._

_With an unlikely group of allies, friends and heroes—led by the most singular individual I have ever had the privilege of knowing—we thwarted the next invasion. We stopped the Reapers._

_But our efforts only delayed the inevitable. The Reapers would come. Despite our best efforts, our pleas to take action fell on deaf ears, meeting apathy, skepticism and outright denial._

_And so, in 2186, the cycle came full circle and the Reapers returned to the galaxy once again._

_As an archaeologist, and later as the Shadow Broker, I sought to uncover the unknown. To gather all I could about the Protheans, analyze and understand it, and bring it into the light. The dearth of information gleaned from all those dig sites stands in stark contrast to the sheer abundance of data available about the events that came to be known as the Reaper War. Historical analyses. Academic dissertations. News stories, investigations and series. Biographies and autobiographies. Collections of firsthand accounts and testimonies. And yet, something was missing. Something crucial. Something I felt had yet to be done._

_It was my honour to edit and present the personal logs of Commander Charles Irving Shepard during the Reaper War. While they are presently restricted to those with sufficient security clearance, it is my hope that it will someday be disseminated to a broader audience. I believe readers would benefit from experiencing the war from Shepard's perspective. From the first days of the invasion to how he took an undeniably desperate leap of faith to how he forged an alliance that was unprecedented in scope and composition, despite numerous obstacles, age-old bigotry and short-sightedness._

_As always, I have restricted my editorial changes to occasional grammatical corrections, explanatory footnotes for further elucidation and separation of logs into 'chapters' for easier reading. The majority, therefore, remains a true representation of Shepard, raw and unfiltered. The pits and valleys he stumbled through. The doubt and despair that plagued him. The strength of character to fight against any and all enemies. The rise and ascension of a true hero to triumph and victory._

_Sincerely,  
>Dr. Liara T'Soni <em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: The Best Place on Earth<strong>

I've mentioned before that I grew up a spacer navy brat, and how that meant I spent more time walking the decks of starships and space stations than pounding the pavement or kicking up dirt. Breathed more recycled and filtered air than not, for which my lungs were undoubtedly grateful. You get the idea.

But I did spend some time planetside. Visited a fair number of cities and countries. And if I had to pick one that stood out, I'd have to choose Vancouver, British Columbia. Also known as The Best Place On Earth. **(1) **It's in the westernmost province of the Earth country known as Canada, which was engulfed in the United North American States since 2096.

So why did I pick that spot? I dunno, exactly. I guess… I have a lot of memories from there. For starters, they have this science centre called, wait for it, Science World. It's always been Science World. Way back in 2005, after some telecommunications giant called Telus dropped some big donation, it got renamed Telus World of Science. Everyone still called it Science World, though. And it was at _Science World_ that I learned about things like mass effect fields—and actually understood it. **(2)**

Then there's Stanley Park. Had my first planetside picnic there. Really nice. Tons of trees. It actually looks like you're in an honest-to-gosh wilderness—which isn't surprising considering it covers 400 hectares. Located on a peninsula, it's surrounded by water, which makes for even more great scenery. And it's right smack-dab in the middle of the downtown area, which means there are tons of different kinds of food available if you don't want to eat at any of the venues within the park itself.

Another peninsula that's fairly popular is Granville Island. Started off as an industrial manufacturing district—in fact, it was originally named _Industrial _Island, but wound up with Granville Island since there was a _Granville _Bridge running over it. While it saw a fair amount of industrial activity, it fell on hard times after World War II. The need for major industrial output dropped, fires gutted factory after factory, business after business moved away… then the federal government bought it in the 1970s and turned it into a 'people-friendly' place. Today, it's basically a centre for public entertainment and nurturing of the arts. Think glassblowing, arts and crafts of all sorts, nurturing of music in all its genres, that sort of thing. No mass-market or 'big box' businesses welcome, thank you very much.

Don't get me wrong: it's a tourist trap. But a really nice one. Lotta good memories. My fondness for jazz? Came from all the free jazz concerts that were held there. And when you weren't listening to all the jazz and blues, you could munch on some overpriced but undeniably fresh food.

Chinatown's another place I remember. It's very similar to other Chinatowns you might've visited: lots of loud store owners and employees hawking their wares, lots of exotic smells from all the food and items that are dried or preserved or pickled or whatever, occasional piles of garbage. That didn't sound very good, did it? It's true, though. So why go there? Well, there's the history. There's the architecture. There's a lot of stuff concentrated in one place that you won't find anywhere else in Vancouver. I still remember that one rainy day—more on that later—when Mom dragged me out to the Dr. Sun Yat Sen Classical Chinese Garden. Broaden my horizons, she said. Catch a cold, I said. But the rain died down, the clouds drifted away and the sun poked through. And because the threat of rain drove everyone else away, we practically had the whole place to ourselves. Which made it all the more peaceful and delightful. The food afterwards didn't hurt.

Oh. The food. It's… wow, the food. It's amazing. So many different kinds of food from so many different countries and cultures. It was a veritable smorgasbord of options even _before _humanity became one of the Citadel members. Canadian, West Coast, Mexican, Caribbean, French, Italian, European, Moroccan, Lebanese, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Thai, steak, seafood, asari, salarian, turian… I could go on and on forever.

On a related note: it's no surprise that sushi's a big deal over there. Over a thousand restaurants serving sushi at last count. Granted, the quality can vary and even the best spots probably can't compare to the ones in Japan. But it's still really good. Never really understood what the big deal was about real salmon until I had my first sockeye salmon sashimi.

Coffee's also pretty big in Vancouver. Coffee and bubble tea—you never heard of it? It's also known as pearl milk tea. There are lots of different kinds: fruit-flavoured, milk, hot, cold, powdered and so on. It can have these chewy tapioca balls added if you want. **(3)** Pretty popular. But not as popular as coffee. Not surprising, considering Canadians seem to like coffee. Canada's usually in the top 10 Earth countries when it comes to coffee consumption. Not sure why. Never liked the stuff myself. **(4)** But I have to say, a hot cup of coffee—or tea, I guess—can be pretty welcome on a cold, wet day.

Because it's often cold in Vancouver. Or wet. Or both. Question: what is one of the most common things flash-fabricated by omni-tools in Vancouver? Answer: umbrellas. Because it rains. A lot. You know the ol' saying 'When it rains, it pours'? There are some days—and some months—where that phrase could very well apply to Vancouver.

Oh, don't get me wrong: the weather's not always miserable. If you go at the right times—or just simply have Lady Luck or the gods or some random manifestation of the universe smiling down upon you—the weather can be downright spectacular. And there's a lot of wonderful natural scenery in Vancouver. You don't get that a lot these days, unless you go to uninhabited or colony worlds. But Vancouver still has lots of greenery, wide open spaces, parks, and mountains. Small wonder that there's a lot of athletic activities going on. Walking, jogging, running, badminton, tennis, soccer (or football), (American) football, skating, ultimate, field hockey, hockey, biotiball… you name it, you can probably find it.

Though, out of all the sports, hockey probably has the highest profile. Canadians are pretty big hockey fans, but Vancouverites… holy cow are they ever crazy! Sport the colours of a team other than the Vancouver Canucks and you are asking for trouble. Rub them the wrong way and you're definitely putting your life in your hands. People think _I'm _certifiable? Try being a Canucks fan. Still, it makes things way more interesting. FYI: first sports game I went to wasn't a biotiball game or one of the sports you hear about on the extranet. Nope, it was Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. Tons of excitement. The crowd was literally on the edge of their seat.

Unfortunately, the Canucks lost. Fortunately, there was no riot. **(5)**

Wow. Yeah. I really have a lot of memories from Vancouver. It's a beautiful place. It really is.

Not that I got to enjoy any of that recently. Hard to do so when you're locked up.

* * *

><p>It had been six months since history was made when a mass relay was destroyed—thus dispelling the illusion that they were indestructible. The Bahak system and almost three hundred and five thousand batarian lives were wiped out. And the whole debacle was blamed squarely on me. Which was fair: I was on the scene, I was the senior commanding officer and I did personally activate the thrusters on the asteroid that rammed and blew up said relay. So I had to face the consequences and turn myself into the Alliance, if only so the galaxy might have some more time to prepare for what was coming. Not to mention the minor, inconsequential need to look at myself in the mirror without feeling the need to vomit.<p>

Of course, there were a few niggling details that no one seemed to care about. Like the fact that I didn't have to turn myself in—I could've gone on the lam, after all. Or the fact that ten thousand lives were saved thanks to the help of the Normandy crew. Or the fact that I only found out with days to spare and, thanks to some indoctrinated spec-ops agents and scientists, that timeframe was reduced to a few hours. Or, more importantly, the fact that the only reason I was driven to make that horrible, horrible choice in the first place was because it was the only way, given the options and resources available to me, to stop a relentless, monstrous race known as the Reapers from invading our galaxy for the umpteenth time and wiping out life as we knew it.

Like I said, no one seemed to care about that. They were content to waste whatever time I'd managed to buy them playing the blame game. Doing their best to look good for the vid-cams and get that over-the-top sound bite out for the extranet news, even though it wouldn't matter once the Reapers arrived. Because you know what? They didn't believe that the Reapers were coming. They didn't believe me. If I didn't know better, I'd think my name was Cassandra. **(6)**

So I spent those six months defending my actions, explaining my rationale and giving my warnings. All of which fell upon deaf ears. Aside from one night, I was kept under lock and key. Doomed to face the same rigmarole over and over and over again.

Until time ran out.

I started that fateful day the same way I did every day: a bit of exercise, a quick shower and a glance out the window. Below me, some blonde-haired kid was running around the rooftop playing with a model starship, just as he had every day for the last couple weeks. Hadn't gotten old yet, I guess.

He clearly had no idea of what was out there. What was coming out of the darkness. And who could blame him? Not me. I couldn't be mad at him. It was the right of every kid to keep some measure of innocence, even if that innocence is borne out of blind and wilful ignorance. Adults, though—like the so-called adults who'd been throwing me to the wolves for six months and had been bad-mouthing me long before that—they had no excuse.

Checking my chronometer, I saw I had a few more minutes. I was already dressed in my battle dress uniform—someone in Requisitions didn't see fit to issue me any formal dress blues—and had nothing better to do. So I watched the kid play on the rooftop. It was a relatively sunny day. There were a few clouds on the horizon, just enough to screen out some of the glare and heat, not enough to make it truly gloomy. A perfect day, in many respects. So naturally I'd be locked up inside until my guard and escort came.

James Vega arrived at 0845—prompt and punctual, courtesy of Alliance training. Tan, tattooed and fairly muscular. I say 'fairly' because I'd spent some time fighting alongside krogan—ah, how I missed those days with Wrex and Grunt—and just as much time fighting against them. After that, I had to grade muscular physique on a curve. By human standards, though, James packed enough muscle to make one think he was swallowing steroids or unauthorized gene mods like candy. But he didn't. It was just good ol' fashioned exercise.

Anderson recruited him to guard the Normandy's brig and its contents—which, at the time, consisted of me, myself and I. To this day, I still remember when he brought James straight to my cell, giving him his orders on the way. "Shepard," he said to me. "This is Lieutenant James Vega. He'll be guarding you on the trip to Earth and escorting you to and from the court martial."

James immediately stood to attention and saluted me. I looked at Anderson in surprise before saluting him back. "Pleased to meet you, Vega," I offered. "Just a heads-up: I haven't been actively serving with the Alliance for… three years now. And even if I was, I've recently been relieved of duty. So you don't have to salute me anymore."

"No I don't, sir," he stated, lowering his hand. "Don't have to call you 'sir', either."

"Vega was defending your good name on Omega," Anderson explained.

"My what now?" I asked.

"Your good name," Anderson repeated with a chuckle. "Some of the locals took offense. Had to help him when he was… exercising a tactical withdrawal."

Vega seemed to appreciate Anderson's bullshit euphemism for running for his life, judging by the way he relaxed.

"Well, then. If the two of you will excuse me, I have to order a course for Earth."

"I'm sure you haven't forgotten," I told Anderson. "Like riding a bike, am I right?"

That prompted a quick grin from him. "Something like that." On a more serious note, Anderson added "Hang in there, son. You'll get through this."

Then he left. And it was just me and James.

I soon found out that James was pretty easy-going. Always with a big wide grin. Always supported the grunt perspective above all else. Always with an eye for the ladies. But when it came to his military duties, he was all business. Technically, that included not chatting or fraternizing with the prisoners.

Unfortunately for technicalities, James was too amiable and I was too bored.

It took some doing, but I wore him down. Not enough that I learned his life story. Hell, I couldn't even get the details on his service record out of him. But we reached the point where James felt comfortable chatting with me—while making sure he didn't accidentally slip any current events that might be construed as useful intelligence—before he escorted me to yet another day of accusations, grandstanding and time-wasting.

Despite my best efforts, though, James stubbornly remained an Alliance marine to the core. Which meant that when the doors opened at 0845 and he stepped through, dog tags gleaming against the white T-shirt stretching across his muscles, he immediately stood to attention and saluted me. "Commander."

Like every day since we'd first met, I had the urge to make him wait. And just like every other day, I forced down the juvenile and downright rude impulse and saluted him back. "How many times have I told you that you're not supposed to call me that anymore, James?" I asked him.

"Lost track, sir," he replied. "Don't have to salute you or call you 'sir' either."

True. But it was one of the few fun moments I had left to look forward to. Along with the salute, which meant more than I could possibly say. One of these days, I'd have to tell him how much I appreciated the gesture.

"We gotta go. The defense committee wants to see you."

That was another first. More than one, actually: when we first arrived on Earth, James would show up at 0850 to escort me. After a while, he began showing up—and saluting me—at 0845, using the extra five minutes to bring me up to speed on various things. Nothing classified, mind you. Every news story was a year old. Maybe more. But at least it made me feel like I was still connected to the galaxy in some way.

But to show up at 0845 only to go straight to business? No grin or joke to provide my one source of amusement for the day? And to bring me to a defense committee instead of yet another court martial hearing? "Sounds important," I said. I tossed the datapad I was playing with on my bed and followed him out.

I almost didn't make it out of my cell, as a man in Alliance blues came _this close _to running me over. Had to screech to a stop before we collided. I waited until the coast was clear before leaving my cell and hurrying to catch up to James.

As I closed the gap, I noticed I wasn't the only one in a rush. The people I saw weren't dashing about as much as that other guy, but neither were they taking their sweet time. Something had them moving quickly. Efficiently. Maybe even urgently. "What's going on?" I asked James when I finally caught up to him.

"Couldn't say," came the reply. "Just told me they needed you. Now."

He slowed down after a few seconds. I could see why: walking towards me was Admiral David Anderson. My former CO. My mentor. My friend. He walked with as much purpose and intent as any other soldier. Unlike them, though, he had something more. He walked with an air of authority. Confidence. It looked so natural. Out of everyone in the corridor, I think I was the only one who knew that it only came automatically because of years of forcing himself to pretend he had things under control when the truth was anything but. One of many things I tried to emulate. I don't think I was very successful, but I flatter myself in thinking I managed to fool enough people. **(7)**

"Anderson," I said.

"Admiral," James saluted.

"Lieutenant," Anderson greeted James with a quick salute before turning to me. "You look good, Shepard. Maybe a little soft around the edges."

He punctuated that last part by patting me on the stomach. Which, to be fair, might not have been as firm as it used to be. "I see being an admiral hasn't affected your sense of humour," I told him.

"Just my feeble attempt, but thanks for lying," Anderson joked. We started moving again. "How're you holding up since being relieved from duty?" he asked.

"It's not so bad, once you get used to the hot food and soft beds," I said, feeling it was my turn to display what passed for my sense of humour. "Though the food still sucks. And, aside from you two, the company isn't much better."

"We'll get it sorted out," Anderson reassured me as we went around a corner, narrowly avoiding another collision. I was starting to get a bad feeling about this. "If you say so," I said. "Anderson: what's going on? Why is everyone in such a hurry?"

"Admiral Hackett's mobilizing the fleets. I'm guessing word's made it to Alliance Command… something _big's_ headed our way."

For all the confidence he exuded, Anderson was in a hurry too: he was halfway up the stairs before he noticed I'd slowed to a stop.

"The Reapers?" I asked.

"We don't know," Anderson tried. "Not for certain."

"Oh come on," I snorted. "What else could it be?"

"If I knew that…" he trailed off. He didn't need me to finish that sentence.

"You know we're not ready if it is them," I said bluntly. "Not by a long shot."

"Tell that to the defense committee," Anderson offered, turning around and resuming his ascent up the stairs.

"I'd have been happy to do that six months ago," I retorted. "Hell, even a month ago. But now… unless we're planning to talk the Reapers to death, the committee is a waste of time. They're—"

"—just scared," Anderson interrupted. "None of them have ever seen what you've seen. You've faced down a Reaper. Hell, you spoke to one… then blew the damn thing up! And then you did it again!"

"Yes, with Harbinger. Minus the blowing up part," I amended.

Anderson continued as if I hadn't said a word. "You've seen how they harvest us, what they plan to do to us. You've fought against their slaves. You've seen their tactics. You know more about this enemy than anyone else alive."

"Oh _really_?" I asked with more than a little sarcasm. "Is _that _why they grounded me? Took away my ship?"

"You know that's not true," Anderson said, coming to a stop again. As I halted, I saw James do the same out of the corner of my eye. He'd been silently shadowing us the whole time, for lack of anything better to do.

"Shepard, when you blew up the batarian relay, hundreds of thousands of batarians died."

"It was the Alpha Relay and the body count was about three hundred and five thousand," I corrected. "And it was that or let the Reapers walk through the back door and take us off guard. Because no one believed my warnings. No one listened."

"I know that, Shepard," Anderson said softly. "I listened. I knew how much it cost you to turn yourself in and how you had the courage to do so anyway. Believe it or not: so did the committee and the officers presiding at your court-martial. If it wasn't for all of that, your court-martial would've been over, you'd have been found guilty and I'd be hauling your ass out of the brig."

"That and your good word?"

I regretted those words as soon as they left my mouth. All the bitterness, all the frustration, all the pent-up anger that had been building up in me like some hidden volcano over the last six months had just spat out, harsh and full of venom. At Anderson. My CO. My mentor. My friend. The last person who deserved anything remotely like that. "Sorry," I apologized. "I was out of line."

"Forget it," he dismissed. "If I was stuck in your shoes, I'd be pissed off too."

That's another thing about Anderson: he was always gracious. Even to those who didn't deserve it. "Thank you, sir."

"You're right, you know."

"Sir?" I couldn't help myself. I didn't owe him any kind of military courtesy since I'd been relieved of duty—and never formally re-enlisted after having been declared dead all those years ago—but I couldn't help it. It just felt right. Guess that's why James kept insisting me on saluting me and calling me 'sir' or 'Commander.'

"I did support you, even when everyone thought you were dead. Because I trust you, Shepard. And so does the committee."

"But… what can I do?" I asked. "I'm just a soldier, Anderson." And an occasionally sneaky bastard, a purveyor of jazz, a lover of other forms of outdated music, a connoisseur of archaic pop culture references, and an unabashed kleptomaniac. "I'm no politician."

"I don't need you to be either," Anderson told me, walking off again. Over his shoulder, he said "I just need you to do whatever the hell it takes to help us stop the Reapers."

I couldn't stop myself from glancing back at James and giving him a helpless look. All he could do was shrug. I mean, what could he say?

By that point, we had arrived at Courtroom Access. I knew it very well by this point. Hell, I could've been guiding the way instead of Anderson. There were only two officers in the foyer: a dark-haired male and a worried redheaded woman. As the former got up to leave, the latter stepped forward to greet us. "They're expecting you two, Admiral," was all she said.

She led Anderson, James—who was apparently expected to wait outside—and me into the hallway. There were a small scattering of officers, all thoroughly engrossed in their datapads. Every one of them was staring at the damn things as if they were praying it would hold the key to some miracle if they kept their eyelids from blinking. Poor souls.

"Good luck in there, Shepard," James called out.

"Thanks," I said, turning around to shake his hand. On an impulse, I added "And thanks for, you know, escorting me over the last six months."

"_De nada_," he replied. **(8)**

"Anderson."

That voice…

"Shepard?"

I turned around. My ears did not deceive me. It really was Kaidan Alenko. One of the men originally assigned to the Normandy SR-1, back when everyone thought that Anderson would be the CO. One of the first men to join my squad when I became a Spectre and was tasked with finding Saren.

One of the first guys who greeted my return from the dead with accusations of being a traitor, a double agent for a xenophobic terrorist organization and basically a backstabbing scum who couldn't be trusted. "Alenko?"

"How'd it go in there, Major?" Anderson asked.

"Okay, I think," Alenko shrugged. "Hard to know. I'm just waiting for orders now."

"Major?" I interrupted.

"You hadn't heard?" Anderson asked.

"Didn't have time," I replied. "Too busy surfing the extranet for music vids. No, I've been out of the loop these days. The joys of house arrest and all that."

"Sorry, sir," Alenko apologized. **(9)** "Didn't mean to keep you out of the loop."

Oh it's 'sir', now is it? "Well it has been six months—no, it's closer to a year, isn't it?" I smiled thinly. "Since Horizon? Lotta time's passed since then. I'm sure you had your reasons for dropping off the radar."

Alenko shuffled his feet. "Yeah, I suppose I did. Still, it's good to see you."

"Admiral." It was the redhead again. She nodded towards the courtroom. "Come on," Anderson said, moving past Alenko towards the door. I followed him, ignoring the nod Alenko sent my way. Behind me, I heard James talking to him. "You know the Commander?" he asked.

"I used to."

Right back at you, buddy. Right back at you.

* * *

><p>When we entered the courtroom, I ignored the stunning view of downtown Vancouver that was displayed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I was more interested in the fact that the room seemed bigger and emptier—mainly because all the benches had been removed for extra working space. Another unwelcome first. There were a few officers and non-coms running around. Some lady in a dress uniform noticed me and whispered to another similarly dressed officer. They turned around, catching the attention of more dress uniforms. A total of three REMFs sat down at what could only be called a platform, ridiculously designed to tower above the rest of us lowly grunts. <strong>(10)<strong> And me, still relieved from duty.

The lone exception was Anderson, who got a salute from at least one guy as we walked towards the bigwigs. "Anderson," one of the male REMFs greeted. "Shepard."

Normally, this would be the start of yet another tribunal or court-martial calling my character into question. But this was anything but normal. "What's the situation?" I asked.

The centre REMF, a bald man, bit his lip. "We were hoping you would tell us."

A nameless non-com wordlessly handed me a datapad. As I turned it on and scrolled through the reports it held, another REMF—a grey-haired woman—picked up where Baldy left off. **(11)** "The reports coming in are unlike anything we've seen. Whole colonies have gone dark. We've lost contact with everything beyond the Sol Relay."

"Whatever this is," Baldy said with dread, "it's incomprehensibly powerful."

"You brought me here to confirm what you already know," I said bluntly. "What I've been trying to tell you for six months now—hell, what I've been trying to tell you for the last three years: the Reapers are here."

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing. Datapads were put down. Mouths dropped. Heads turned towards me with a synchronization that would be eerie were it not so laughable. "Can you hear me _now_?" I asked innocently.

"Then…" Granny whispered, "How do we stop them?"

With an effort, I put my anger aside. I'd vented enough. Probably too much, given the circumstances. Time to get serious now that they were finally willing to listen. "It won't be easy, that's for damn sure. The Reapers are more advanced than we are. More powerful. More intelligent. They don't fear us, and they'll _never_ take pity on us."

Granny looked like she was gonna have a heart attack. Either that, or burst into tears. "But… there must be some way."

I still had everyone's attention. Why did this only happen when it was too late, I wanted to know. I shoved that thought in a corner of my mind. "If we're gonna have any chance at surviving this, we have to stand together," I told the room.

"That's it?" Baldy rasped. "_That's _our plan?"

Well, what did he expect? I'd spent so much time trying to convince them to listen to me that I hadn't had time to map out what I'd do in the increasingly unlikely scenario that they _did _listen to me. That's what happens when you waste time dicking around, ladies and gentlemen.

Before I could come up with a more diplomatic response, the redhead who'd led us into the courtroom piped up. "Admiral! It's… we've lost contact with Luna Base."

Anderson whipped his head towards her, a horrified look on his face. "The moon," he whispered. "They couldn't be that close already…"

"How'd they get past our defenses?" a stunned Granny gasped.

More advanced? More powerful? More intelligent? Seriously, was anybody paying attention?

The redhead's fingers were flying over one of the computer terminals. "Sir, UK headquarters has a visual," she reported. "Putting it up on Viewscreen 4… now."

We all turned our heads to the corresponding viewscreen. At first, there was nothing but static. Everyone leaned forward.

Gradually, a picture emerged. A man in Alliance armour was talking in front of a wall of smoke so thick it obscured everything behind him. No—yelling. We couldn't make out what he was saying, but it was clear he was frantically yelling to anyone who could hear. An errant wind blew away the smoke, revealing a city that was engulfed in flames. As we watched, several buildings collapsed. A huge explosion knocked the man off his feet. _That _we heard. Then…

_-SIGNAL LOSS-_

Everyone slowly got to their feet. They were stunned. I was stunned. For once, I had the same thought they did: _This can't be happening… _

Someone switched Viewscreen 4 to various images. The first image was from a newsfeed, with some reporter talking while a Reaper loomed over a city behind her, its dark metal carapace highlighted in unholy lines of blue. The image shrank to show other images, each progressively more horrifying. Smoke billowing from a city in the distance. A couple running for their lives through the streets. A gunship flying over a city while some civvie frantically tried to get the pilot's attention. A Reaper standing in the midst of a city, while another gunship flew past it like a gnat buzzing past a giant. Countless Reapers descending through Earth's atmosphere, their carapaces ablaze like wrathful angels from some warped version of Heaven.

One image expanded to fill the screen. It was hard to see any details due to all the glare, but the basics were there: a Reaper in the middle of a city, its arrival unchallenged. Its presence undeniable. Its intent ominously clear.

Anderson was tapping at his omni-tool. I had no idea how long he'd been doing that. Giving up, he turned to me. "Why haven't we heard from Admiral Hackett?"

I didn't have any answers for him.

Baldy was the next to speak. "What do we do?"

All eyes turned to me again. Now I had to come up with an answer. I closed my eyes, turned around and walked towards the REMFs. "The only thing we can," I said simply, pointing towards the image of the Reaper on the viewscreen. "We fight or we die."

The other officers and non-coms stared at the REMFs. The REMFs stared at each other or at the desk. None of them knew what to do. The lone exception was Anderson, who took a step towards me. "We should get to the Normandy."

That was when I felt a tingling on the back of my neck.

Aw, crap.

I heard it first. A rumbling vibration, so deep I felt it more than heard it. It was coming… up ahead. In front of me. As the REMFs staggered to their feet and turned, we all looked up through the windows.

"Oh my God," Granny whispered.

The skies had grown dark. Red lightning flashed and crackled through the clouds.

And then…

…

…a Reaper plunged through the clouds, a red beam of energy sweeping from its unstaring, unfeeling eye. Burning everything in its path. It took me a second to realize that the beam was heading…

…

…towards us.

"Move!" I yelled.

As always, Anderson was the first to heed my call. "Go, go, go!" I yelled. Now a few others managed to shake off their dazed horror and start to run. My feet pushed against the floor as I lunged towards the door…

I heard the glass shatter behind me…

The tingling on my head intensified, just as a shadow rose up behind me. I ducked just in time as the tribunal's desk flew over my head. I watched as it rolled over and over like a giant misshapen log. For some reason, I couldn't help but turn around and stare at the Reaper in all its horrible majesty…

The shockwave hit me, knocking me off my feet, sending me flying through the air…

I hit the desk, my head cracking against its hard, unfeeling surface…

I collapsed to the ground…

* * *

><p><em>(1): A marketing slogan, accompanied by a sunshine and mountains logo, that was launched in 2005. While the logo remained, the catchphrase was gradually retired throughout the year 2011.<em>

_(2): During 2186, it was known as the Eldfell-Ashland World of Scientific Education__. Small surprise that the only people who called it by its official title were' senior members of the Eldfell-Ashland Energy Corporation._

_(3): The term 'bubble' is actually an Anglicized imitation of the Chinese word __bōbà__, which means 'large breasts'. _

_(4): Ironically, by the end of the Reaper War, Shepard became a regular coffee drinker. _

_(5): The first two times that the Vancouver Canucks got into the Stanley Cup Playoffs and made it all the way to the final round were against the New York Rangers in 1994 and the Boston Bruins in 2011. Both times, the Canucks lost in the last game—each round is played for the best of 7. Both times, a riot broke out after the game concluded._

_(6): A human woman from Greek mythology who had both the power of prophecy and the curse of never being believed. Small wonder that Shepard found some common ground with her. _

_(7): This wouldn't be the first time Shepard unfairly cast himself in a poor light and it won't be the last. _

_(8): 'You're welcome' in the human dialect known as Spanish. _

_(9): Even if Shepard had been reinstated, he would have only been a Lieutenant Commander. According to the Alliance ranking system, Major Alenko would have outranked him. I also wish to point out that Shepard used to call Kaidan by his first name. The fact that he reverted to using his last name can be interpreted as a sign of how far their relationship had deteriorated. _

_(10): Rear Echelon Motherfucker,' a less-than-polite and derogative phrase for an officer who was so out of touch with the battlefield that he or she could give orders without consideration of the tactical or strategic repercussions. _

_(11): Shepard occasionally assigned nicknames to various people, though he generally kept their usage to himself. With only a few exceptions, these nicknames were usually derogatory. _


	2. The End of Days

_**Author's Note:**_

_Yes, you are not mistaken. At long last, The Hero Rises, my novelization of Mass Effect 3, is being posted. Here are a few things that you may not have known because you didn't read my profile or otherwise simply forgot:_

_First: be patient. It takes an obscenely long time to write each chapter, especially since when I have to watch a few seconds of game play, stop, figure out what I want to say, frantically write the damn thing down, replaying those seconds, stop, write some more, then repeat ad nauseum. The chapters will come out, but only when they're ready._

_Second: I do plan to cover all four ME3 DLCs. That means From Ashes, Leviathan, Omega and Citadel. So please stop asking me whether I'm going to cover them because I've already said yes. One of the DLCs will be incorporated into The Hero Rises, while the others will be standalone fics/novelizations._

_Third: this novelization will follow the Extended Cut version of ME3. I have a few ideas to throw in here and there, and my own interpretation of various events, but it will still be fairly close to canon. So for anyone who's hoping that this amateur, unpaid writer who's doing this mostly for gits and shiggles can magically fix all the screw-ups, travesties and outright wrongs ever made by the Mass Effect franchise, BioWare, EA and The Powers That Be….while I'll certainly do my best, you may want to readjust your expectations. Consider yourself warned._

_Fourth and most importantly: I've decided to try implementing a reward system. For every 100 reviews that The Hero Rises get, you readers will get some kind of treat for taking the time to tell me what you think. For starters: when THR reaches 100 reviews, I'll start posting (very, very) short snippets of the next chapter in my profile. When THR reaches 200 reviews, I'll post an original one-shot. When it reaches 300… well, you'll just have to keep reviewing (and check my profile), won't you?_

_This wouldn't be possible without a couple partners-in-crime. I'd like to thank _Chu.e_, who took the time and effort to take my save file, play through Mass Effect 3 and post the results online so I could watch them over and over (and over) again. Without all that hard work—which was done strictly on a volunteer basis—I never would have managed to get this off the ground. _

_I'd also like to offer a sincere and heartfelt thanks to __Chris Dee__ for acting as a sounding board, a beta reader and a cover picture artist over all these years. If there's a catchy turn of phrase you saw or grammatical goof you _didn't _see, it's probably because of Chris's hard work. That goes double for many insights and perspectives that made all these characters more real and three-dimensional than any advances in video or graphic technology._

_I can only hope you get as much pleasure reading, following, favouriting—yes, I know that's not a word—and reviewing this as it was for me to write it (seriously, please review it. You have no idea how much that would make my day). Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: The End of Days<strong>

When I looked back on the day that the Reapers began invading the galaxy, began invading Earth, I remember reporting my conversations and experiences on the way to the defence committee. What I said and heard and saw in front of all those men and women. What I felt when I realized that we'd run out of time and the Reapers were here. How the shockwave from an errant Reaper beam sent me flying into a large desk and knocked me senseless. How, when I finally came to, I was really disoriented. I couldn't hear anything other than a lot of muffled voices and a high-pitched whining in the background.

I lied.

Oh, I did black out for a few moments at least. And my hearing was definitely impaired when I came to. But I wasn't out as long as I said I was. Part of me wanted to just stay still. Lie down. Keep my eyes closed. Let my ears ring and ring. Because as long as I did that, as long as I was in that self-imposed sensory deprivation, then I didn't have to acknowledge what had happened. I didn't have to admit that it was too late to stop the Reapers from arriving. I didn't have to face the facts.

I didn't have to recognize that I had failed. **(1) **

"Shepard!" That was me. Someone was saying my name. At least, I think they were saying it.

Part of me, though, wasn't content to sit still. Part of me wanted to know what the hell was going on, no matter how painful it might be. I tried to get up, opening my eyes—

—and immediately regretting it as a spike of pain lanced right between my eyes and into my brain. At least, it felt that way.

"Shepard!" Okay. Yeah, someone was definitely saying my name. Or calling out for my name.

Wincing, I rose into a sitting position, taking it much, much slower this time. One hand pressed against the floor to help me up; the other pressed against my head to keep it from splitting open.

"Shepard!"

It was Anderson. He'd been searching for me, judging by the way he was looking around. Catching my movement, he turned, saw me and ran towards me. "Come on. Get up."

I grabbed his hand and let him pull me to my feet. He quickly waved his omni-tool over me. While he read the results of his med-scan, I looked around. Viewscreens were shattered. Furniture was broken and spread all over the place. Columns lay on the ground, broken to pieces. Men and women of all ages and ranks lay amongst the debris. None of them were moving.

The ones with their eyes open were the hardest to see. I couldn't help but think they were staring at me, accusing me, blaming me for not doing more.

"Here, take this. We've got to get moving."

Satisfied that I wasn't gonna croak on him in the next few minutes, Anderson gave me his M-3 Predator pistol, thereby distracting me from all my guilt. He reached down and checked a nearby soldier. The way he shook his head told me she wouldn't be getting up ever again. Reaching over, he took her sidearm and activated his comm. **(2)** "This is Admiral Anderson. Report in. Anyone."

Nothing. We were alone.

For want of anything better to do, I followed Anderson's lead and began checking the other bodies. All dead. We were the only survivors.

"Major Alenko, is that you?"

Or not.

"What's your status?"

While Alenko reported in, Anderson glanced at me. I gestured around us and shook his head. Understanding that there was nothing we could do here, he waited until Alenko finished. "I can't raise the Normandy," he said. "You'll have to contact them. Shepard and I are the only ones who made it out of the defence committee meeting alive. We'll meet you at the landing zone. Anderson out."

With contact established with at least one living soul out there and a plan in place, I joined Anderson at the shattered windows of the courtroom and looked out at the nightmare Vancouver had begun.

The sprawling metropolis of metal, concrete and glass was marred by scorch marks, smoke and fire. The clear, blue sky was crowded with shuttles and fighters flying frantically through the air. And through it all, the Reapers were everywhere. Hovering in the air like cold, unfeeling demons from the pit. Towering over the men, women, children, vehicles and buildings like some dark titan or god.

It was the end of days. The eschaton. Doomsday.

Anderson watched the horror unfold all around us. Then we looked at each other, nodded grimly, and hopped out of the window onto the balcony below.

* * *

><p>"They're massive."<p>

I don't think Anderson meant for me to hear that. If he had his wits about him, he'd know that that kind of comment is one you keep to yourself, lest you risk damaging the morale of the men and women around you. Granted, it was only me and my morale was pretty low already. But it's the principle of the thing. Chances are, it just slipped out. **(3)**

Pretending I didn't hear him, I checked the pistol. Only one clip, but at least it already had a disruptor mod attached. Next item was my omni-tool. It only took a few seconds… "Anderson, is this—"

"Yeah it's your old omni-tool," Anderson said, divining my question. "Fair warning: Internal Affairs went all over it and deleted quite a few programs here and there."

"You just happened to have my omni-tool with you?"

"Hackett woke me up this morning with a priority communiqué. Warned me that we'd lost contact with two of our deep space outposts and that something massive was on the long-range scanners."

"Wonder what that was," I said wryly, gesturing at the nearest Reaper.

"He bet it was the same thing," Anderson sighed. "After that, I knew I had to get you out and have you hit the ground running, so I went to Storage, signed out your omni-tool and loaded a few programs. Some old, some new.

"You can play with it later, Shepard. Come on. Kaidan's headed to the Normandy. They'll pick us up if we can get to the spaceport. Let's move."

The way three of downtown Vancouver's buildings collapsed under the onslaught of the Reapers energy beams told me that might not be so easy. The screaming I heard below pretty much confirmed that. I didn't point any of that out, though. Didn't have to. "Lead the way," I said instead.

We'd only run along the balcony for a minute, maybe less, when a red beam cut vertically through the air in front of us. Anderson abruptly stopped and shouted "Look out!" just before part of the building exploded. "How do you stop something so powerful?" Anderson coughed, waving the acrid smoke out of his eyes.

The balcony in front of us was now destroyed, so we had to reroute onto the support columns and bracing around the building. Thankfully, they were designed to handle the occasional maintenance worker or automated drone, so they were well-suited for our needs. Except for the 50-degree incline, that is.

"Take a running jump," Anderson warned after a minute of jogging. "It's farther than it looks."

He demonstrated for me, leaping over a large gap in the path. I slowed down, looked at the hole and back at the hole we'd just detoured around. To be honest, I couldn't see much of a difference.

"What're you waiting for, old man?"

In spite of everything that was going on around me, I somehow found myself feeling mildly insulted. Backing up a few steps, I broke into a sprint and leapt into the air. For a moment, I thought I was gonna slow to a stop, look down, look back up, then plummet to my demise like some character in one of those old vids with a cavalier relationship with the laws of physics. But no, I made it to the other side safe and sound—physically, anyway. "If I'm old, you're ancient," I retorted.

"Respect your elders, sonny," came the reply. "Come on, let's go."

Before I obeyed his orders, I paused and looked down. Below me, on the streets, a couple figures were running. They looked so small and helpless, like ants. Was that what we were to the Reapers? Small? Helpless? Insignificant? Something to be stepped on and squashed without any thought or hesitation? Putting that thought aside, I ran after Anderson. A fighter flew by us, three Oculus drones hot on its trail. **(4)** The pilot jinked left and right, trying to shake them. Unfortunately, it was all to no avail. One of the Oculi's energy beams grazed the fighter. There was a small explosion, followed by a larger one as the fighter crashed into one of the buildings.

Anderson stopped by a ladder and consulted his omni-tool. "Come on," he decided aloud. "We'll have to go this way. I'll go first."

When I reached the top of the ladder, he was crouched down behind one of the girders. "Looks clear, let's go," he said. I was about to leapfrog past him when he reached out and grabbed my shoulder. "Hold on." He raised a hand to activate his comm. "Major, you read me? I'm patching in Shepard."

Alenko's voice entered my ears, interrupted by the occasional burst of static and gunfire. _"We're almost to the Normandy. I've got Lieutenant Vega with me, but we're taking heavy fire. What's your status?"_

"We're about five minutes out," Anderson replied. I did a quick sweep of the area. No hostiles in the vicinity. Well, except for the Reapers. There were… one, two, three… maybe four of them? In Vancouver alone? How many of them had invaded Earth? How many of them had invaded the rest of the galaxy?

Whatever Alenko was saying came across as a garbled squelch. "Say again?" Anderson asked. "Major? Damn it," he cursed. "I lost him." He tried to re-establish contact before giving up. "Come on, we've gotta move."

"You said that already," I told him. "Don't you remember?" When he looked at me, I added "They say memory's the first to go, old man."

He gave me a slight grin for my trouble before sliding down onto the top of a crosswalk. We made our way over and around ventilation shafts and exhaust vents, more screaming filling our ears as men, women and children ran from the Reapers. At least, I thought that was all they were running from before Anderson saw something else. "Husks!" he cried out. "Take them out."

There were four or five of them, crawling up the side of the wall like Spiderman. **(5)** As I lined up a shot, I glimpsed someone running into the building below and to my right. Anderson and I each took out two, but the last one managed to crawl out of our range of fire. "Damn it," Anderson cursed. "I'm out of ammo." He looked off at where the husk had crawled away before shaking his head. "Come on."

We went down a ladder to a shorter building. To my left was the rooftop access where the person I'd glimpsed a few seconds ago had entered. In front of me were a trio of husks. I dropped one before running out of ammo. "I'm dry," I announced.

"Then we'll have to take these things out the old-fashioned way," Anderson declared.

I was afraid of that. I've never liked getting up close and personal. Mostly because I really, really suck at it. But husks are even worse at close-quarters combat than I am. And the odds were only one-on-one. Best of all: the husks were too busy pawing at the wall to notice our approach. So it was really easy to get the drop on them.

"There's more coming up the side," Anderson warned. "Don't let them grab you."

"But what if they want a dance?" I said.

"Tell them you have two left feet," Anderson replied.

That was all the witty repartee we had time for before another pair of husks arrived. Anderson beat one of them down with his fists. I let the other get close to me while I fiddled with my omni-tool. Unless someone had altered the settings.

"Yes!" I crowed as a bolt of plasma flew out, hitting the husk and lighting it up like a bonfire. **(6)** "That's right, baby! I'm back! I'm rested! And I'm ready to set the whole lot of you on fire! I'm—" I broke off as the back of my neck began tingling.

Aw, crap.

The Reaper in front of us fired its energy beam. We watched as it swept in our direction. Turning around, we ran like hell. The windows to our right briefly lit up…

…then they exploded in a storm of glass and flame. Just like when the Reapers first landed in Vancouver and blew the courtroom to smithereens. My head started pounding again, a distant echo of my earlier concussion.

Picking ourselves up, we dusted the debris off. Anderson motioned towards the newly-created entrance. We made our way into the building, stepping over the broken glass and—ooh!

"Gotta find a way out of here," Anderson mused aloud. "Any chance of going that way, Shepard?"

"Uh, no," I replied, turning around to hide the med-kit I was looting. **(7)** "Maybe we'll have better luck over here—"

"Watch it!"

I hopped back as a husk reached out towards me. The doors closed, trapping it mid-lunge. It hung there, flailing at me while I activated my omni-tool. I was about to charge up another burst of plasma when I saw another program. _Omni-blade,_ it read.

Ooh.

The last time I saw something like that was while I was relieved of duty and condemned to a never-ending trial. For one night, I was released for a mission. Well, more of a personal favour than a mission, for the Deputy Director of Alliance Intelligence. At the time, I could see how omni-blades would be a nifty weapon for an agent.

Its presence in my omni-tool was probably less intelligence and more military. Someone must've read my reports and decided to develop a way to counter husks. **(8)** Either way, I had no problem with flash-forging an electrified, superheated and disposable silicon-carbide blade to decapitate the moaning husk.

Now that the husk had been dealt with, I could continue my search. As I forced open the door, some small part of my mind noticed it was quieter here. Inside the building, it was harder to hear the cries and yells. Forcing open the door, I saw it. Not loot—I can prioritize, after all. "Over here," I called out to Anderson. "We can get out through this way."

Anderson ducked underneath me and slipped on through. I was about to follow when I heard a noise. "You go on," I said. "I thought I heard something."

Anything Anderson said was cut off as the doors closed. Partially—I could still get out if I needed. For now, it was time to listen. And there was that noise again. I followed it to an open ventilation shaft. There was a kid backing up inside the shaft. "Hey."

The kid backed up some more. I crouched down by the shaft opening and peered inside. "Hey," I said gently. "It's okay…"

It was a young kid, wearing dark pants and a light grey hoodie. "Everyone's dying," he cried out, backing up some more.

Damn it. This kid's entire world had just been shattered. He'd never be the same again, would he? It had only been, what, a few minutes since the war started and already I hated it.

The ground trembled. I glanced behind me and saw the leg of a Reaper stomping through the streets. Turning back, I tried to give him a reassuring smile. "You and me—we're still alive. I've got another friend who's alive too. And there are plenty more too. I'm sure of it. Now come here. I need to get you someplace safe. Take my hand." I reached out into the shaft and extended a hand.

"You can't help me," the kid whimpered.

"Try me," I returned.

"Shepard!"

It was Anderson. He'd come back to find me. "In here."

"I can't," I shook my head. "There's a kid here who needs my…"

I trailed off. The kid was gone. He'd retreated so far into the shaft that he'd disappeared from sight. "Hey!" I called out. "Kid? Where are you?"

"Someone was hiding in there?" Anderson asked.

"Yeah."

Anderson looked torn for a moment. "Son?" he called out. "Are you there? Come on out, son, we have to get going."

We waited a few minutes. The kid never returned. "I'm sorry, Shepard," Anderson said. "We have to go."

"Yeah," I agreed reluctantly. "I guess you're right."

* * *

><p>The path I had found would probably lead us out. Eventually. We just had to work our way around all the collapsed girders and columns and support beams and loose wires—all live and crackling with electricity, of course. "This is a goddamned mess," Anderson cursed for the fifth time in as many minutes, stepping over a large chunk of concrete. "Every minute these machines are here, thousands of innocent people die. I won't be responsible. I can't."<p>

I looked back, still thinking about that kid. "It's hard enough fighting a war, but it's worse knowing no matter how hard you try… you can't save them all," I agreed.

"Exactly." The way Anderson looked at me suggested that was the real purpose of his words. To somehow help me get past the feeling that I'd failed just because no one else would listen to me. To convince me that, just because the universe hadn't listened to me before and the Reapers were here now, it didn't mean I should throw in the towel and give up. Funny how, in the midst of all this shit, Anderson had time to worry about me.

"They hit so fast…" Anderson grunted, lifting a girder so I could crawl underneath it, "I thought we'd have more time."

"We knew they were coming," I said, holding up the beam for Anderson in return. In more ways than one: maybe it was my turn to try to cheer him up. "We must have done _some _preparation."

"We did," Anderson nodded. "And they still just cut through our defences like they were nothing." He crouched down to gauge whether we could navigate the tangled mess of metal bars in front of us. "We need to go to the Citadel. Talk to the Council."

Say what now? "The Citadel? The fight's here. Look around you."

Anderson gave me a look. "It'll be everywhere soon enough. You said it yourself: the Reapers will destroy everything if we don't stop them."

He began squirming through the bars. "The Council… *mmph* _has _to help us."

I laughed. "You sure about that? They're pretty good about giving humanity a hard time. Have been from the beginning. They don't really like listening to anything, unless it's so they can dismiss it later." **(9)**

"No, but you're a Council Spectre. That has to count for something."

Now I laughed even harder. "That was just a token gesture, Anderson. And as soon as they reinstated me, they sent me to the Terminus Systems. _The Terminus Systems." _I shook my head as we began tiptoeing across a metal beam."You know as well as I do that my Spectre status would mean nothing there. That was the extent of their help. That's about as much help as they'll give now: nothing. They'll be too busy watching—"

The whine of a Reaper energy beam echoed through the air, followed by the entire building shaking. I almost lost my balance and tumbled into the abyss below…

"Gotcha!" I felt Anderson grab my belt and haul me back. "Thanks," I panted when I caught my breath. "I owe you one."

"More than one," he grinned. "I've been watching your back all along."

"I know," I said. "And thank you."

"My pleasure."

The rest of the journey was uneventful. We emerged into a hallway that was relatively intact, aside from the shards of glass from the windows that were strewn across the floor. Along with quite a few thermal clips. "Grab some ammo," Anderson ordered. "Reload. Let's get moving."

Good idea. Time to do some looting. I quickly scooped up a couple clips and reloaded. I paused at the window, looking at the Reaper standing in front of me like some bizarre art sculpture, taller than all the buildings around it. Then we climbed out and began jogging along the outside of the building, God knows how many floors above the ground. Another Reaper landed, its energy beams burning through a park. "God," Anderson breathed. Getting a grip, he activated his comm. "Major Alenko, we're in sight of the spaceport. ETA: 3 minutes."

"_We've made it to the Normandy," _Alenko shouted back. _"Taking heavy fire—Oh God! They're gonna take down that cruiser! Evasive manoeuvres! Take evasive manoeuvres, for the love of God!"_

We could see the cruiser hovering above the city as it opened fire on the Reaper. "Major? Kaidan!" Anderson tried. "Damn it. They're in trouble."

As we watched, the Reaper struck the cruiser with a single beam. The cruiser managed to fire off a few more shots. Then we had to shield our eyes as the cruiser exploded, creating a new sun just above Vancouver, or so it seemed.

The back of my neck tingled.

That was when the shockwave hit us. The steel and concrete beneath our feet gave way. Thankfully, the building didn't collapse completely. Part of it actually formed an incline for us to slide down. Still it was a bumpy descent as we bounced and grunted our way down.

It took a while for me to pick myself up. I ran a quick scan on myself. Lots of bruises. Maybe a microscopic crack in one of my ribs. But otherwise, I was in pretty good shape. Guess all those genetic enhancements, surgical upgrades and cybernetic implants really paid off.

Anderson was okay too, thank God. We looked at all the debris around us. It simultaneously blocked the path we were gonna take, while forming a bridge of sorts that offered an alternate path. "Normandy," Anderson said. "We're going to reroute. Do you copy?"

All we got was a garbled mess that vaguely sounded like Alenko's voice. "Normandy? Come in!" Anderson tried again before giving up. "It's no good," he sighed. "We'll have to—"

"Wait!" I interrupted, a bit of motion catching my eye. "What's that?"

As Anderson was in a better vantage point, he identified them first. "Friendlies."

A pair of Alliance soldiers were down below, next to the collapsed remains of a catwalk. One clearly injured in some way, the other trying to take care of him. We hopped down. "You two all right?" I asked.

"Get down!" the would-be medic hissed. "They'll see you!"

Too late: the back of my neck told me they already saw us. They looked like batarian husks, with glowing eyes and implants sticking out of their grey skin. Along with what looked like faces on their shoulders that looked like they were straining against the skin and trying to push their way out. Guess Anderson was right: the Reapers had already hit the batarians. Just like they were originally gonna do in the Bahak system.

To my surprise, they raised their arms. Well, their right arms. The claws stretched out, revealing a palm that looked suspiciously like the muzzle of a gun.

I hastily ducked down as bullets ricocheting everywhere. Husks with guns. That was new. "Keep your head down," Anderson warned.

The husks were approaching and laying down cover fire. I needed to get an advantage: fast. Activating my cloak, I raised my omni-tool and fired off a stream of plasma. As the husk I hit staggered back, I dropped it with a couple shots. "Good shot," Anderson complimented me before plugging another one full of bullet holes. "Finish them off!"

I repeated my cloak, burn and shoot trick. This time, I wasn't able to get the kill shot, having to duck as I was hit from multiple angles. Without a hardsuit or even a portable shield generator, all those bullets went right through me. Seeing my dilemma, the medic slid over a pack of medi-gel as well as a piece of equipment. A portable shield generator. Perfect. Nodding my thanks, I injected the medi-gel, strapped the generator on and waited for it to charge up before setting another husk on fire and unloading the rest of my clip into its head. As it collapsed, I watched another husk—heavily wounded from Anderson, no doubt—crawl over to it and…

…

…and begin eating it. Ew. Not so much a typical husk than a… cannibal, I guess. **(10)**

"Shepard! Over here!"

I finished off the last cannibal and joined Anderson. He was crouched beside the friendlies we were trying to talk to earlier. "What happened here?" he asked them.

"Our gunship was shot down," the medic replied. "We barely made it."

"They say any landing you can walk away from is a good one," the other guy joked. Now that we were close, I could see a metal column was trapping his leg. "I haven't gotten up yet so…"

We all shared a tired grin. "You have a radio?" Anderson asked. "We're trying to contact our ship?"

"No," the medic shook his head. "There's one in the gunship, but it's gonna be crawling with those things."

We looked up. So all we had to do was jump in the water, try not to impale ourselves on any of the wreckage, swim across, climb out and shoot our way to the gunship. Piece of cake.

"Stay here, son," Anderson said. "We'll get you out of here."

Anderson and I lifted the column up while the medic pulled his buddy free. When we lowered the column, the catwalk sank into the water. Not all the way, but enough that we wouldn't have to do any swimming. "Come on," Anderson ordered me. "Let's get to that gunship."

We crossed the makeshift bridge to the other side. It was clear that we wouldn't be able to make a straight trip over, so we had to detour around a mountain of debris. As I climbed over a particularly large metal plate, a gunship flew by. Hot on its heels was… it looked like… a harvester. The last time I saw one of those things was on Tuchanka, when I was helping Grunt with his Rite of Passage. This one had a darker, almost black pigmentation and was riddled with glowing blue lights. Another product of the Reapers' handiwork. Damn, they worked fast!

I found another med-kit. As I crouched down to swipe its contents, I noticed more of those Cannibals. Activating my cloak, I launched a fireball before opening fire. I waited for my cloak to recharge before doing it again and again. Anderson laid down cover fire to keep them from getting too close. While I reloaded, he continued firing at another wave of Cannibals. I moved to a better vantage point under cloak before lighting them up one by one and riddling their bodies full of holes.

Finding another thermal clip, I ejected my spent one and reloaded as I advanced. It didn't take long before we found the radio. All I had to do was step around the dead Cannibal and the equally dead Alliance soldier, the latter gripping an M-8 Avenger.

Anderson quickly moved to the radio. I picked up the assault rifle, transferred the disruptor mod to the weapon and watched his back as he fiddled with the controls. "Normandy, this is Anderson. Do you read?"

"_Admiral." _Alenko's voice was much clearer: no surprise as the radio was a hell of a lot better than our personal comms. _"What's your location?"_

"By a downed gunship in the harbour," Anderson replied. "I'm activating its distress beacon. Send support. We've got wounded down here."

A staccato of static was the only reply we got. "Major?"

More static. The lights on the radio went out. "Damn it," Anderson cursed. "I lost the signal."

"Let's hope the beacon does its job."

"Yeah, because we have a problem."

"No, really?" I snorted.

"No," Anderson said seriously, looking above my head. "Really."

I turned around. Meteors seemed to be plummeting through the air, burning as they cut through the atmosphere. One landed a few hundred metres to our right in a burst of flame and smoke. As I watched, I saw movement.

They weren't meteors, I realized as my neck began tingling again. It was the Reaper equivalent of a drop pod, delivering a fresh supply of infantry to invade Earth's shores. More Cannibals, to be exact. Wonderful.

Anderson and I found cover and opened fire. I cloaked and barbequed one of the Cannibals, then cloaked and fired several rounds into another. Anderson was setting several of the Cannibals on fire himself, thanks to an incendiary mod he'd equipped at some point. There were only three left, I saw as I launched another fireball. Anderson let off a concussive round, knocking another one on its ass. Now there were one—no, two. Anderson's Cannibal had gotten to its feet and was retreating. Wait, there were three. Four? And was that another drop pod? Yeah, it was.

Aw, crap.

"Hope they get here soon," was all that Anderson said.

"You and me both," I shouted back as I reloaded.

Under cloak, I opened fire once more. My bullets didn't seem to be doing as much damage. Looking closer, I realized that these Cannibals had what looked like maroon-coloured plates of chitinous armour covering their backs like a whole mass of tumours. I looked down at my skin and fatigues, covered by an invisible kinetic barrier. Not the same, I thought. So not the same.

I cloaked and launched some more plasma at a trio of Cannibals. Anderson had his pistol raised, but held off on firing until the fireball hit. Then he fired.

A fiery explosion knocked all three Cannibals over. I belatedly realized that he'd fired another concussive round, timing it to land just after my plasma hit. Somehow, the impact had re-ignited any leftover plasma, with impressive results. "Nice!" I shouted.

"Thanks!"

We took advantage of their vulnerable position to finish them off. Then I swivelled on my feet and killed another Cannibal with a fireball. One more Cannibal to go—no, scratch that. One plus who knows how many more, courtesy of another drop pod. I set another one on fire, finished it off with gunfire, began firing at another. I had to duck down before finishing the job as my shields were almost depleted. So I let Anderson have some fun while I reloaded. 48 shots left in my assault rifle. Shit.

Alenko, I wondered, where the hell are you?

Standing up, I fired off eight or nine shots into the back of a Cannibal. That took it out. Anderson knocked another one over with a concussive round, so I finished it off.

32 shots left.

Cloaking, I launched a fireball. Then I opened fire. I dropped one, seriously wounded another, lost track of it as a third one got in the way, focused my aim on that pesky bugger. Ducking down to catch my breath, I activated my cloak again and launched another fireball. The explosion told me that Anderson had combined my plasma with his concussive round for another effective combo. Too bad there were still two more Cannibals.

12 shots.

I fired off several rounds at one, set it on fire and switched to the last one…

_No ammo_

Aw, crap.

"Running out of ammo," Anderson warned.

Aw, crap.

I holstered the assault rifle and switched to the pistol Anderson had given me. It only had 35 shots. Spotting another Cannibal, I dropped it with a round of gunfire.

26 shots.

Yet another Cannibal. No, two… three. Anderson and I dropped the farthest one with a plasma-concussive round combo before focusing our fire on the left Cannibal.

15 shots. One Cannibal left.

"There's more of them!"

Plus several more buddies fast approaching. Anderson and I fired at it before I sent a fireball arcing over our heads and down to light it up.

11 shots left. Three more Cannibals. And another drop pod with God knows how many more buddies. I'd have to make every single shot—

"_Cavalry's here, gentlemen!"_

Oh thank God. I never thought I'd thought I'd be so happy to hear Alenko's voice.

The Normandy swooped out of the sky, obliterating the Cannibals in a single burst of gunfire as it flew over our heads. As we stood up, we watched her take a sharp turn to port. **(11)** The sun poked through the clouds, illuminating the Normandy in all its glory…

My jaw dropped. Not just at the sight of my old ship again. But… she had changed. Instead of sporting the white, gold and black colours of Cerberus, she now proudly displayed the dark blue and gunmetal grey colours of the Systems Alliance.

Damn, that looked so… it looked so _right_.

"'Bout time!" Anderson breathed.

I felt the same way. "Let's go!" I barked.

We ran towards the Normandy as it slowed to a halt, hovering over a broken ramp. The shuttle bay doors lowered, revealing Alenko and another soldier. I broke into a sprint and jumped. For a moment, I was reminded of the gap I had to clear on my way out of the Collector Base. Only the distance wasn't as great. Alenko reached out a hand. For a moment, I thought twice about grabbing his hand. Then I swallowed down my ill will and let him pull me aboard.

"Welcome aboard, Shepard," Alenko said.

That didn't feel right. It wasn't _his _ship, after all. Still, I guess it would be rude to point that out after he'd saved my butt. "Thanks," I said.

Turning around, I gestured for Anderson to follow me. "Come on!"

Anderson paused for a moment. Alenko and his companion turned around and retreated inside the hangar, no doubt called away by other matters. Anderson watched as a shuttle flew by. It slowed down, the hatch opening. The soldiers inside looked at us, decided we were okay, then closed the hatch. As the shuttle flew away, Anderson came to a decision. "I'm not going."

I stared at him. "What the hell are you talking about?" I sputtered.

"You saw those men back there," he explained. "There's a million more like them and they need a leader."

Of course he'd say that. "We're in this fight together, Anderson," I protested. "I need you."

"It's a fight we can't win," Anderson sighed. "Not without help. We need every species—all their soldiers, all their ships—to even have a chance at defeating the Reapers."

I opened my mouth. Then closed it. Damn it, he was right. Deep down, I think I knew that. We needed help and, out of the two of us, I was probably in the best position to get it. The thing was... right now… the way things stood… the chances of uniting the various races together had never seemed so pathetically, abysmally low.

Anderson must have read my mind. "Talk to the Council," he implored me. "Convince them to help you."

OK, I take that back: _now _the chances were pathetically and abysmally low. I threw up my hands helplessly. "What if they won't listen?"

"Then _make _them listen," Anderson insisted. "Now go! That's an order."

"I don't take orders from you anymore, remember? I was relieved of duty, remember?"

Anderson pulled something out of his pocket. He bounced it in his hand, getting a feel for its weight, before throwing it at me. "Consider yourself reinstated… _Commander."_

I caught it with my free hand. Opening my fingers…

…

…it was my dog tags. This was happening. This was… really… happening.

"You know what you have to do," Anderson said. "I need _you_."

Staring at him, I gave him a reluctant nod. "I'll be back for you, and I'll bring every fleet I can. I promise."

I started to walk into the hangar, then stopped. Looking over my shoulder, I added "Good luck."

"You too, Shepard," Anderson returned.

Out of the corner of my eye, Alenko stepped towards me. I wasn't sure how much he'd heard. I wasn't sure what I could say. Instead, I turned back and watched as the Normandy took off.

I watched as Anderson grew smaller and smaller, his frame still standing tall and proud as he snapped off a salute. The two of us saluted back.

I watched as a trio of shuttles descended towards the wreckage that made up the spaceport, searching for survivors. As they touched down, soldiers got out and began frantically waving civvies over. One by one, they began darting towards the shuttles. One of them paused and looked around. It was the kid. The one who'd retreated into the ventilation shafts. I was sure it was him. He'd made it!

I watched as the kid suddenly cringed in fear as a harsh sound blared out. A Reaper—or some giant machine of Reaper construction—stomped towards the shuttles. My heart slowed as it approached.

I watched as the Reaper's red eye blazed, charging up another energy beam. The kid just stared at it, watching his doom grow in strength. Then he came to his senses and sprinted for one of the shuttles, dodging two of the soldiers who were frantically laying down cover fire. Climbing onboard, he got to his feet and looked at me. Then the soldiers banged their fists on the shuttle. The hatch closed as the shuttles lifted off, leaving the soldiers to an uncertain fate.

I watched in horror as the Reaper's energy beam lanced out towards the shuttles and took them out one by one.

And then I couldn't watch any more.

* * *

><p><em>(1): Shepard always was his own worst critic, holding himself to the harshest and highest of standards. While that surely motivated him to be the man he was and accomplish all he did, it is fortunate that he had friends around him to offer additional points of view when he went too far into self-recrimination.<em>

_(2): Some humans—and, admittedly, some members of many species—looked down on taking items or belongings from the dead. Shepard was an exception, for his own reasons. Anderson no doubt did so reluctantly, and only out of pragmatism__._

_(3): While Shepard was undoubtedly correct, Anderson may also have been comfortable enough around him and confident in his ability to maintain morale to allow himself the occasional lapse. _

_(4): The first time Shepard encountered the Oculi was shortly after he and the crew of the Normandy SR-2 passed through the Omega-4 Relay, where they served as a final defence screen around the Collector Base. _

_(5): A fictional comic-book superhero whose powers included the ability to cling to and climb up walls._

_(6): Many squadmates had noted Shepard's tendency for setting things or people on fire, a habit that intensified during his preparations against the Collectors. The combination of something familiar and the stressful situation Shepard found himself in no doubt led to this unusual outburst._

_(7): Some things never change._

_(8): Although melee-combat applications and programs had existed almost as long as the omni-tool itself, there was never any pressing need for such a feature until the Reaper War. Shepard is correct in that the omni-blade was specifically designed by the Alliance as an offensive application that wouldn't add any extra weight. As an added benefit, it could surprise any opponent expecting a supposedly helpless target. _

_(9): A reference to Shepard's first meeting with the Council following his resurrection and the response from turian Councillor Sparatus._

_(10): Indeed, this class of husk would subsequently be referred to as 'Cannibals'. _

_(11): In Alliance naval terminology, this meant it turned to the left. Also, this is one example of the Normandy's upgrades, as it previously was too massive to safely descend and fly through a planet's atmosphere without assistance from planetside mass effect generators. Still, the maneuver was extremely dangerous and would not have been attempted were the situation not so dire. Finally, I point to the personal pronoun Shepard used, an example of anthropomorphism that is common amongst many space-faring species._


	3. We Used To Be Friends

**Chapter 3: We Used To Be Friends**

"What the hell's going on?"

The Reapers had come. They were bulldozing their way across Earth, killing or squashing anything in their way. Buildings. Ships. Civvies. Kids… God knows what they were doing in the rest of the galaxy. If we were lucky, it would be more of the same.

"Where's Anderson?"

Anderson had recalled me to active service. Which meant I had duties and responsibilities as an officer of the Alliance. Not to mention as a Spectre.

"Where we goin'?"

On top of that, I'd been appointed to go convince the Citadel Council to do something they weren't accustomed to doing: offering help. 'Cause Anderson was right: we needed help. But why the hell did _I _have to be the lucky bastard to do all that?

"Hey!"

Of course, not everyone had gotten that message. James had been hounding me for the last, well, 30 seconds. Not an unreasonable period of time. Given that all his questions were valid ones, I should probably answer them. "We're leaving," I said over my shoulder.

"Leaving?" James squawked, clearly not believing what his ears had heard.

After the shuttle bay doors closed, Alenko had gone back to do… something. I didn't know what, since I hadn't joined him. I was too busy grappling with the fact that the Reapers were here, I'd left Anderson behind, humanity was under attack, I'd left Anderson behind, I had to go get help from the Council and anyone who I could sweet-talk and did I mention I'd left Anderson behind? After fighting alongside the man—and finding out he was just as great a squadmate as he was a mentor, commanding officer and friend—the thought that I had left him behind to fend for himself _really _rankled.

Anyway, Alenko put down an assault rifle and stepped towards me. "What's goin' on?"

"Anderson wants us to go to the Citadel," I told both of them. "Get help for the fight." Right. Because that's all it was: a simple 'fight.'

"Bullshit," James scoffed. "He wouldn't order us to leave."

"He would if he didn't see any other option," I said firmly. "And there isn't. We don't have a choice. Without help, this war's already over."

James gave me a look I'd never seen before. It looked like disappointment. Scorn. Like I hadn't measured up to whatever heroic image he'd envisioned of me. "Forget it!" he said. "Drop me off someplace, 'cause I'm not leav—"

"_Enough_!" I snapped. "Don't you think I'd rather stay and fight? I saw what you saw: Reapers making mincemeat out of ships, crews and soldiers. I saw their husks run rampant through the streets. I saw civvies scared out of their goddamned minds. I wanted to stay. I really did. But what would that do?

"Maybe I could've killed some husks. Saved some lives. But if we want to do more than that—if we want any chance of winning this war—we. need. help. So we're going to the Citadel to start finding that help. You want out? You can catch a ride back from there."

James waved me off in disgust. Clearly he didn't buy what I was saying. Either that, or he thought I was a coward. But he didn't know what I knew. He hadn't seen what I'd seen. **(1)** If he did, he would've known that I was right. That Anderson was right.

"_Commander."_

Now there was a voice I hadn't heard in a while. "Joker," I greeted him. "That really you?"

"_Alive, crippled and still kicking. Got an emergency transmission from Admiral Hackett for you."_

My first thought was 'This better not be some goddamned random assignment.' **(2)** My second thought was that Hackett might have an occasionally bizarre sense of priorities, but even he knew better than to waste my time in a situation like this. If he was sending me an emergency transmission, it meant it was genuinely important. "Patch it through."

A blurred and shaky image appeared before me, like I was seeing a transmission through a vid-cam held by someone who'd drunk way too much coffee. But eventually it cleared up enough for me to recognize Admiral Hackett. _"Shepard … s-s-s-sustained heavy losses," _was all I could make out at first. A squawk of noise drowned out the next bit. _"…force was overwhelming. There's no way we can defeat them conventionally…"_

He'd said the same thing when he debriefed me after the debacle in the Bahak system, when I'd thwarted the Reapers and bought the galaxy a little more time. For all the good that did us. "I know," I said. "Anderson's already ordered me to the Citadel. To talk to the Council."

"_First, I need you… iance outpost on Mars… ore we lose control of the system."_

Ooohkaaay… why we needed to head over to Mars was beyond me. But I'd just received my first official request as an Alliance soldier from a superior officer. **(3)** "Yes sir," I replied, snapping off a salute. "May I ask why, sir?"

"… _been researching the Prothean Archives with Dr. T'Soni."_

Liara? Okay, that was different. No way I wanted to leave her behind with the Reapers. Though why was she going back to her old job as a Prothean-obsessed archaeologist? Last I checked, she was pretending to be the old Shadow Broker.

Hackett would answer that question too: _"… found a way to stop the Reapers… only way to stop them… in contact soon. Hackett out."_

A way to stop the Reapers? Was that even possible? Could it be that simple? Well, there was only way to answer those questions. As soon as Hackett's image faded, I activated the comm. "Joker: set a course for the Mars Archives."

"'_Mars'?"_ Joker repeated, as mystified as I was. Like me, he quickly obeyed my orders. _"Roger that."_

I pressed a series of keys, hoping it would automatically prep the shuttle for launch—which kinda looked like the old Kodiak shuttle but not quite. And I don't just mean the colour scheme. But I digress. Sure enough, my memory was still good: the shuttle began moving from the ceiling rails.

James shook his head. "This is _loco_."

"Why Mars?" Alenko asked. "What does he think we'll find there?"

"I don't know yet," I admitted, picking up a pistol. "But if it helps us win this war…" I left the rest unsaid. Reaching over, I picked up a chest plate. It was grey, with a silver and red symbol emblazoned on it: N7. "Grab your gear," I ordered.

Everyone scattered to suit up and select their weapons. Once they were out of earshot, I surreptitiously activated the comm again. "EDI, if you're there, open an encrypted channel to my personal comm set and reply."

"_Welcome back, Commander."_

"Good to be back. Listen, I need you to do something for me…"

* * *

><p>Joker had already been heading for the Sol Relay, so he had to double back and drop out of FTL. As soon as we'd reached Mars, James—who'd volunteered to fly the shuttle—remotely opened the shuttle bay doors and took us down.<p>

As we descended into what passed for Mars's atmosphere, I hacked the PA system into the shuttle, linked it into my omni-tool and started playing a song.

"_A long time ago, we used to be friends.  
>But I haven't thought of you lately at all.<br>If ever again, a greeting I send to you,  
>Short and sweet to the soul is all I intend." <em>

Petty? Me? Don't know what you're talking about.

"_I've been trying to reach Mars on secure channels," _Joker reported. _"No one's answering."_

Of course not. Because nothing's ever simple where yours truly is concerned. "Any sign of Reaper activity?" I asked, trying my first guess.

"_Negative."_

Well at least that was something. Though that begged the question of why we weren't getting any response if the Reapers hadn't slaughtered everyone on Mars. "EDI?"

"_The base appears to be online," _she replied. _"It's possible the inhabitants were evacuated."_

Uh huh. "We'll know soon enough," I decided. "Be ready, Joker… just in case."

"_Roger that. Normandy out."_

Anticipating our arrival, Alenko stood up and joined me by the hatch. "We're almost there," James reported. Glancing over his shoulder, he added "But you knew that."

As it turned out, we'd gotten ahead of ourselves: we were still flying through Mars's atmosphere. Which left plenty of time to listen to the song that was still playing.

"_It's something I said, or someone I know.  
>Or you called me up, maybe I wasn't home.<br>Now everybody needs some time,  
>and everybody knows<br>The rest of its fine.  
>And everybody knows that.<em>

_"Come on now, sugar,_  
><em>Bring it on, bring it on, yeah.<em>  
><em>Just remember me when you're good to go.<em>  
><em>Come on now, honey,<em>  
><em>Bring it on, bring it on, yeah.<em>  
><em>Just remember me when.<em>

_"We used to be friends a long time ago._  
><em>We used to be friends a long time ago.<em>  
><em>We used to be friends a long time ago.<em>  
><em>We used to be friends, hey."<em>

**(4) **

We touched down a few minutes later. "Helmet seals?" I asked.

Alenko and James gave me a thumbs up, confirming that they were working. _"Still no contact from the base,"_ James added over the inter-squad comm channel, _"but we've got a massive storm headed our way."_

Of course we did.

"How long we got?"

"_Half hour, tops. After that, we're gonna have difficulty keeping up comms with the Normandy."_

All the tech and advancements in the galaxy, and Mother Nature still finds a way to come up on top. Even on other planets. "Understood," I sighed, hitting the hatch release. My helmet visor automatically polarized as the glare from outside—so much brighter than the artificial illumination from the shuttle—hit us, but it still took our eyes a couple seconds to adjust.

I pulled out my sniper rifle—nothing fancy, unfortunately. One of the things I'd forgotten about serving in the Alliance is how they like everyone to have the same weapons. The same basic, mass-produced, craptastic weapons. So instead of having a _good _sniper rifle, all I had was a M-92 Mantis, coupled with the M-3 Predator Anderson had given me. I guess beggars can't be choosers.

James looked up and whistled. _"Damn… that's a huge storm. Looks a lot bigger in person."_

"_Pretty average for Mars, actually," _Alenko corrected.

"_I'm glad you're so optimistic," _James replied sarcastically.

"_We've got Reapers invading Earth, the rest of the galaxy's probably in the same shape and the station here's offline," _Alenko pointed out. _"A little dust storm seems like the least of our worries."_

As much as I hated to admit it, Alenko had a point. Even if it wasn't a little dust storm. James saw that too. _"Fair enough."_

We spent the next few minutes trudging along through. Kinda took me back in time: as a spacer brat, I'd had a couple opportunities to be stationed on Mars with Mom for various tours of duty. I'd forgotten how beautiful and desolate Mars was. Right now, though, what struck me was how peaceful it was. We were the only ones in the immediate area, after all. It was easy to forget that we weren't here for a vacation. Easy to pretend the Reapers hadn't invaded the galaxy and the end of all life as we knew it was looming around the corner.

Speaking of around the corner, a sprawling structure came into view. The Mars Archives. Where humanity had first uncovered proof that We Were Not Alone in the galaxy. Where we first learned about Protheans and element zero and other mind-blowing things.

"_What's that?" _James said sharply.

Hopping down from a ledge, we gathered around a dead body. Alenko accessed the hardsuit systems. _"He's Alliance. Sergeant Reeves. Didn't put up a fight before he died."_

We all exchanged an uneasy look. Sergeant Reeves had just confirmed what the radio silence had suggested—someone was here. Might not be the Reapers, but they certainly weren't friendly. James said it for us: _"Something's not right here."_

"Agreed," I said. "Keep your eyes peeled and maintain a low profile 'till we know what's going on."

"_Roger that," _James confirmed.

A second later, we heard a noise. It was faint, but enough to catch our attention. I tweaked my audio sensors and heard the noise again. Sounded disturbingly like a gunshot. **(5)** Exchanging worried looks, we double-timed it around a ridge.

Several figures in hardsuits were standing. Sporting some familiar colours—even if the configuration of the colour scheme was new to me—and a very familiar hexagonal logo. A couple figures were lying prone. One figure was kneeling down. As we watched, one of the standing figures raised a pistol, pressed it against the kneeling guy's helmet. We heard two more muffled gunshots, then the kneeling guy collapsed.

"_Holy shit," _James breathed. _"They're executing them!" _

"Everyone find cover," I instructed. "We're only going to get one shot before they notice us, so let's make it count."

I switched to my sniper rifle and lined up a shot, then paused as a thought occurred to me. "Anyone have some concussive rounds handy?"

"_Yeah," _James said. _"Why?"_

"I'm going to launch a ball of plasma at this guy," I replied, highlighting the lucky bastard with my HUD. "As soon as you see him go up in flames, hit him with your concussive round. If I'm right, there'll be a secondary explosion that'll hit him and any buddies that are nearby. Alenko…" I paused. "You can pick someone else. We go in three… two… one…"

Sure enough, the combination that I'd discovered on Earth with Anderson worked again. _"Damn," _James laughed. _"They know we're here now."_

Switching to my heavy pistol, I heard one of the hostiles yell out _"Call for backup!"_ I sent another fireball to finish off one of them while dropping another with a couple well-placed shots.

"_Throw down your weapons," _another hostile tried. _"We won't hurt you."_ Yeah, sure. That might've worked if we hadn't seen them kill people in cold blood. Instead, James and Alenko tag-teamed a pair of hostiles who were trying to flank us. As I sent some more plasma to finish them off, at least one of them came to a startling conclusion: _"These guys don't fight like scientists." _

Translation: not only were we smart enough not to swallow any bullshit they fed us, we were also proficient enough to hold our own and offer a fair fight. Which meant we hadn't played the game by refusing to be helpless victims. We rewarded the half-wit by filling his body full of lead. Checking my HUD, I spotted two more hostiles. I assigned one of them to James and Alenko. Then I tracked down the other guy and dropped a fireball on his head. Using the telemetry from my hardsuit sensors, Alenko hit him with a burst of biotics. After that, all I needed was a couple bullets to finish the job.

When I rejoined the team, James was crouching beside one of the hostiles. _"These guys were Cerberus, weren't they?"_

"Sure looked like it," I agreed.

"_Cerberus," _Alenko frowned. _"What're they doing here on Mars?" _

"Good question," I said. "Come on. We gotta get moving."

Alenko wasn't about to let it go, though. _"You don't know?"_

Were we really gonna go through this song-and-dance again? "I'm not with them anymore, Alenko, if that's what you're asking."

"_It wasn't, but you have to admit, it's a bit… ah… convenient."_

Oh for crying out loud. "No I don't have to admit anything, Alenko, because I'm not Cerberus."

Thankfully we ran into some more Cerberus troopers, so that shut him up for a while. We pinned them down with a barrage of gunfire before James and I pulled off the ol' plasma-concussive round trick. _"What the hell?" _one of them gasped.

Just as we finished them off, another trio arrived. Seeing how well our tactics worked the last time, we tried them again. Needless to say, the results were the same. _"I thought we dealt with security," _one of them gasped.

"_Damn it," _another cursed, having just taken a few bullets where the sun don't shine. **(6)**

Seeing how things were rapidly swinging in our favour, I closed in, launching another fireball. James saw what I was doing just in time to load another concussive round. The fiery explosion was even more impressive up close.

"Clear," I announced after sweeping the area. James and Alenko quickly caught up with me. _"Doesn't look like they came here in force," _James observed.

"Yeah, just a few vehicles," I agreed. All sporting the Cerberus logo, because advertising was so important to terrorists.

"_Must've had help from the inside," _Alenko said.

"You could be right," I agreed neutrally, pretending I was giving him the benefit of the doubt. I spotted a ramp to one of the Mars Archives, still lowered from when the Cerberus goons exited. As far as entry routes go, it was as good as any.

"_No way they could take this facility with anything less than a full battalion," _Alenko continued as we went up the ramp.

"Uh huh," I said noncommittally. Once we were all inside, I raised the ramp. If there were any more Cerberus troopers out there, I didn't see why I should make it easy for them to come back in and sneak up on us.

"_Shepard, I need a straight answer,"_ Alenko said.

"About what?" Like there was any doubt.

"_Do you know anything about why Cerberus is here?"_

I tried to keep my voice level. "Nope. What makes you think I know what they're up to?"

"_You worked for them, for God's sake. How am I not supposed to think that?"_

"Okay, Alenko. Listen up, because I don't know how many more times I can say the same thing: I didn't work for them. I worked _with _them. We joined forces to take down the Collectors. That's it. _Finito._ End of story."

"_There's more to it," _Alenko argued. _"They rebuilt you from the ground up. They gave you a ship, resources…"_

"Things I would've been happy to discard if the Alliance or anyone else gave me an alternative," I interrupted. "But they didn't. So I had to make do with what I had. We parted ways once we were done. Let me be crystal clear on that point: I've had _no contact _with Cerberus since I destroyed the Collector base. Got it? And I have no idea why they're here now or what they want. That's not gonna change, no matter how desperately you want it to!"

James had been watching our delightful little conversation with increasing unease, judging by the way he kept shuffling on his feet. Finally, he spoke up. _"Major, Commander Shepard has been under constant surveillance since coming back to Earth. The only electronic equipment he had was a datapad that had parts stripped out so he couldn't access any computers or communications equipment. _**(7)**_ There's no way Cerberus could've contacted him."_

Thank you! _Finally_. Someone who was willing to back me up using actual evidence instead of blindly insisting on half-baked imaginings and conspiracy theories.

"_Sorry, Shepard." _If only I could believe his apology was sincere. _"It's just that—"_

Whatever bullshit Alenko was about to say was drowned out by a loud hiss as the air repressurized. The platform we were standing on automatically began rising to the floor above. As soon as we took off our helmets, I caught his eye. "This is getting old, Alenko. Here's a few things you might've missed because you were too busy being blind, deaf and dumb for the last year or so: I didn't secretly join Cerberus after the Normandy went down over Alchera because I was too busy being dead. Once I was brought back, I reported to the Council and the Alliance—which included Anderson, by the way—as soon as I could. I fed critical intel to the Alliance while I was working with Cerberus. I stopped several of their pet projects before and after destroying the Collector base. I turned myself in to face the music when I stopped the Reapers—again—because I couldn't prevent the loss of 305 000 batarian lives in the process and had to answer for it.

"Maybe you remember this time before any of that, when you and I fought side by side as we tracked down Saren and his insane plan to help the Reapers. We saved each other's asses more times than I can remember. So I shouldn't have to explain myself to you. And it's getting really tiresome having to waste time doing so when the real enemy's busy running amok through the Mars Archives!

"Please," I finished as the platform reached the cargo bay on the next floor, "trust me."

We walked past an all-terrain vehicle and a few floor-to-ceiling racks of cargo containers. Alenko _still _wouldn't keep his big mouth shut. "I do," he tried. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

Once again, his bullshit was interrupted. This time, by a loud clatter. The three of us immediately pulled out our weapons and found cover. It didn't take me long to pin down the noise: someone was moving through the ventilation shafts above us. Whoever it was, he—or she—sure wasn't bothering to keep quiet.

Probably because that person was being followed. And shot at.

After a few seconds of clattering, shooting and the odd cry, we heard a couple kicks against the grate. It didn't take long before it gave way and a familiar-looking asari hopped out onto a stack of barrels. She made her way down to the floor before a pair of Cerberus troopers appeared. Whirling around on the spot, she flung up a hand and summoned a singularity that caught the two troopers in its gravitational pull. They slowly floated up in the air, helpless to do anything but spin around. Calmly, the asari pulled out a heavy pistol and shot each of them in the head. A second later, the singularity collapsed and the two troopers dropped to the ground like a pair of rocks. The asari walked over to them and just as calmly put two bullets in their heads.

Grinning to myself, I holstered my weapon, got to my feet and headed over to her. James also got to his feet and walked towards her... but his assault rifle was trained steadily on her. I slowed down and gently pushed the rifle down. "Easy there, Lieutenant. She's with us."

James looked at Alenko, who gave a nod of confirmation instead of some dumb-ass accusation. "She's the one Hackett was talking about," he added.

"Oh." The novelty of Alenko and I actually agreeing on something, coupled with the logic that greeting an ally by gunpoint wouldn't be the best first impression, convinced James to lower his weapon. "Hey, Liara," I greeted her. "Nice shot!"

"Shepard." Liara practically sagged in relief. "Thank the Goddess you're alive. I was so worried when the reports first came in. They hit Earth hard?"

"Yeah," Alenko said. "It was hard to leave like that."

"Kaidan," Liara greeted him. "I'm sorry. But… why'd you come here?"

"You have a fan," I replied. "Admiral Hackett, to be exact. He ordered us to come. Said you'd know what was going on. And I'm really hoping you do, 'cause I—we—could all use some good news right about now."

"Then you're in luck," Liara said. "I do."

Did the universe just have a brain fart or something? I could've sworn it had just given us a break instead of rubbing more salt in our wounds. James summed it up nicely, though not as graphically: "Hallelujah. Some answers. _Finally_."

"Lieutenant James Vega," I belatedly introduced. "He's been making sure I behave myself while I was relieved of duty. James: Dr. Liara T'Soni."

"Pleased to meet you."

"Hey, Doc. So you got some good news or something?"

"Maybe," Liara cautioned, walking towards a window. "I've discovered plans for a Prothean device. One that could wipe out the Reapers."

"You're kidding," I said. "Here on Mars?"

She looked out the window at one of the other buildings in the complex. "In the Prothean Archives, yes."

"But we've known about the Archives for decades," I frowned. "Why now?"

"Process of elimination, mixed with a little desperation and the occasional blind leap of faith."

That would do it.

Thankfully, Liara knew some details would be helpful. "When you destroyed the Alpha Relay, you bought us some time," she began. "But then you were under investigation. I knew I had to do something."

Wow. Someone who actually made some use out of those extra six months. Who'd have thunk it?

"Hackett knew it too. He contacted me, asking if I would use my resources as the Shadow Broker to find a way to stop the Reapers."

Alenko's eyes widened. "You're the Shadow Broker?"

"What's the Shadow Broker?" James wanted to know.

"The Shadow Broker was an intergalactic information broker that worked for the highest bidder," I replied. "He could provide damaging intel, crucial files, data to start a war, that sort of thing—while still maintaining some kind of balance in intergalactic politics. He also had agents, operatives, covert ops teams and other minions scattered all around the galaxy, eager to do his bidding. After I found out that an associate of Liara's was captured by the Shadow Broker, I helped her rescue him. In the process, we wound up confronting and killing him. Liara took his place with the aim of using the Shadow Broker's network to help stop the Reapers… though I thought that was supposed to be a secret," I added.

"It isn't widely known," Liara said, "but I don't see why some people shouldn't know the truth."

Her call, I guess. "You were saying?" I prompted.

"Since you helped me defeat the old Shadow Broker, I started looking for defences against the Reapers. The Protheans were the only ones with substantial information on them. The older civilizations barely had any records at all.

"My search led me from Thessia to Kahje—where I was attacked by Cerberus agents. The Illusive Man claimed they were rogue agents and suggested that we work together to stop the Reapers, but I had my doubts. I knew he was hunting for the same thing because our agents kept crossing paths. Besides, he was reluctant to share whatever data he had first."

"Big surprise," I snorted. "Did you find anything on Kahje?"

"Encryption keys that unlocked three other archives," Liara said. "I didn't know the location of the first one and the second had been destroyed. The third one, though…"

"—was here on Mars," I finished.

"Precisely. Hackett got me access to the Archives and kept me updated on your status." She paused, looking guilty. "I meant to come see you, but…"

"I was under house arrest," I reminded her. "There wasn't much I could do to help you, anyway. Sifting through mounds of data isn't exactly my strong suit."

Liara appreciated the out I offered her. Not that I was lying: the quest to stop the Reapers wouldn't be helped by my slipping into a data overload-induced coma. **(8)** "I suppose you're right. In any case, my work paid off. The Archives are full of data. An overwhelming amount. I think I found what we need."

"It seems hard to imagine," I marvelled. "Something that could actually stop the Reapers? I guess I'll believe it when I see it. Where do we find this weapon?"

"It's not a weapon… not yet."

There we go.

"It's plans for a device," Liara said. "A blueprint."

Okay. Sure. So on top of getting the Council to do something, convincing the various species to help out humanity when their instincts would be to bunker down and focus only on themselves… I also had to find time to build some big giant Prothean weapon. I guess I shouldn't be surprised at this point. "Well it's more than we had a minute ago," I shrugged. "Or an hour or a day or—anyway, how do we get it?"

"The Archives are just across the tramway," Liara replied, pointing out the window. "Easy access… assuming Cerberus hasn't locked it down already."

"Do they know about this weapon?" I asked.

"Yeah, they seemed hell-bent on catching you," James agreed.

"They want what I'm here for," Liara confirmed. "What we're all here for."

"But why?" James wondered.

"The Protheans came close to defeating the Reapers," Liara said. "All my research strongly indicates that. They had plans to destroy them—clearly—but ran out of time."

"And anything powerful enough to destroy the Reapers…" Alenko began.

"…just might be something Cerberus would be interested in," I finished. Then I realized that Alenko and I were actually on the same wavelength. For once. Hell, I'd even completed his sentence. That was, well, weird. Alenko seemed to think the same, given the confused look on his face.

"So it's a race to the Archives," James summed up.

He shouldn't have said anything. Because the four of us almost lost our balance as an explosion rocked through the building. Looking around, we saw sparks flying from the top of a door on the level above us. Rather than bypassing the encryption, the Cerberus forces on the other side—unless the universe had decided to make my life even more complicated by throwing yet another adversary into the mix—had decided to simply cut their way through the locks. "We've got company," I observed.

James pulled out his assault rifle. "Bring it on."

"Not this time, James," I disagreed.

"What?"

"Get back to the shuttle. If Cerberus beats us to the Archives, I need you covering the exits," I explained. "If they have more reinforcements coming, I want to know before they arrive."

"But…" James tried.

"Look, I need every advantage I can get if we're going to stop Cerberus," I said. "There's no denying that you'll do a lot of good by my side. You'll do even more good if you get back to the shuttle, Lieutenant."

James took the implied order for what it was and ran back to the platform. Just in time, too: as the unseen Cerberus goons had finished cutting their way through. Activating the controls, I lowered him back down the way we came.

"I hear them," Alenko warned. "We should take cover."

Thankfully, there were lots of vehicles to provide shelter. The Cerberus troopers began pouring in. They took advantage of their superior vantage point and numbers to keep us pinned down. And they were doing a good job too, or so they thought. Liara yanked the first two off their feet with a singularity. Alenko lifted his arm. At first, I thought he was going to use his biotics. Instead, my sensors detected a sudden drop in temperature.

Next thing I knew, the troopers were doing their best impression of human popsicles.

I later found out that Alenko had a gimmick similar to my plasma bursts. Instead of setting people on fire, though, his trick launched a mass of super-cooled subatomic particles that could snap-freeze anything within the radius of the impact site. Come to think of it, Mordin had had a similar feature. Not that he used it. He was quite fond of incinerating hostiles. So was I.

Speaking of fire, I leaned around the corner and launched a fireball. The sudden shift from cold and frozen to hot and smoking was too much for the troopers, whose bodies shattered in an explosion of ice, metal, fleshy bits and bodily fluids.

Another trio stepped forward. We met them with good ol' fashioned gunfire before I sent some hot, hot plasma their way. While they were distracted, Liara deployed another singularity. This time, Alenko did use his biotics. The combination caused the singularity to explode, sending the hapless troopers flying.

According to my HUD, there was one more trooper, but none of us could reach him. So we waited. When she was ready, Liara yanked him out of hiding with yet another singularity, I set him on fire and Alenko finished him off with the rest of his thermal clip.

"I think that's all of them," Liara observed.

"Good," I said. "Let's find a way up."

* * *

><p>That took a little more doing than I'd anticipated, as Cerberus had managed to sabotage the elevators. I began playing around with the vehicle lifts, which were scattered around the cargo bay, to try and jury-rig a workaround. That had nothing to do with my urge to look for loot, by the way.<p>

Besides, all I found was a med-kit and a few thermal clips.

While I entertained myself, Liara and Alenko were chatting. "How'd Cerberus get into the facility?"

"I'm not sure," Liara admitted. "One minute we were getting reports of the Reaper invasion… the next, there was chaos. Didn't even realize it was Cerberus at first."

"Could they be working with the Reapers?" Alenko asked.

"Doubtful," I called down, "but I suppose anything's possible. They're certainly not working with the Alliance. By the way, I've found a way up."

Liara and Alenko joined me by the door the Cerberus troopers had used. We entered just in time to see a fleeing civvie get gunned down. I didn't really need Liara's advice to take cover, though I suppose she meant well. "We've done a sweep through the residence," we heard a gruff voice say. "Going to check on Able Squad. They're not reporting in."

That's because we bumped into Able Squad. Just like we were going to bump into these guys. Spotting where they were, I snuck up on the closest one. Took a deep breath. Let it out. Then… _pounced_.

"Look out!"

Too late. Reaching up, I grabbed the trooper, yanked him over the crate between us onto the floor, activated my omni-blade and plunged it straight through his hardsuit and into his heart. Liara and Alenko immediately opened fire. "Who the hell are these guys?" one of the troopers wondered as they fired back.

"I think the Alliance sent backup," another trooper guessed, just before Liara's singularity picked up two of them and sent them spinning around. Alenko occupied himself by detonating the singularity with his biotics. As for yours truly, I was a bit occupied dealing with a fourth trooper who had sneaked up on me and was taking pot-shots at my shields. Whirling around on the spot, I decided to try a new trick, one I'd discovered when I was fiddling with my omni-tool on the way to Mars.

Raising my arm, I transmitted a nifty little program that was designed to sabotage weapons and hack synthetics—such as the submachine gun that was being fired at me. As soon as the trooper realized his weapon was no longer functioning, he shook it, tried to fire again, got nothing, slapped it, still got nothing, looked at his weapon, looked up at me… and finally realized that it was time to retreat. Again, too late: as I'd set him on fire by that point. A few bullets were all it took to finish him off.

One more trooper. Liara caught him in a singularity, which seemed to be her weapon of choice so far. Not that I could point fingers, as I'd automatically launched a fireball at the trooper. **(9)** The flames were still licking away when they suddenly erupted in an explosive inferno. I managed to overcome my surprise and finish him off.

Turned out my assessment was off: one of the troopers wasn't dead. Just _almost _dead. Staggering to his feet, he opened his comm channel. "This is Bravo Team," he croaked. **(10)** "We've found the disturbance. Gah!"

Do I really need to say I set him on fire and shot him in the face before he could finish his report? Didn't think so.

As I restocked, I looked at Liara and Alenko. "Did one of you cause that big fiery boom earlier?"

"That was me," Alenko acknowledged. "I was thinking about the tactics you were using earlier with James—having his concussive round react with your plasma attacks to cause a secondary explosion—and thought I could do the same with my biotics. I wasn't sure if I could adjust the mass effect fields, but apparently I did."

"An impressive application," Liara said, "one we'll no doubt be able to make use of. For now, we'll need access to the pedway. The controls should be nearby."

We began searching for said controls. I found a datapad with a message to ExoGeni Corporation refusing yet another offer from the company, some gauntlets from Ariake Technologies that might come in handy when I actually had time to tinker with my hardsuit, a M-4 Shuriken submachine gun that I handed to Liara, a med-kit and a couple dead bodies.

Liara wasn't quite so easily distracted, so it wasn't a surprise to find her sitting at one of the computers. "Damn it!" she cursed.

"What?" I asked.

"I've been trying to access the live feeds, but they're locked. The security protocols have been tampered with."

"Three guesses who that might be," I sighed, sitting down by another computer. "I'm going to focus on gaining access to the pedway. Meanwhile, Liara, see if you can—"

"Did you see that?" Alenko interrupted. "Who's that woman in the vid?"

We looked at him, then followed his gaze to one of the monitors. Sure enough, a woman had run into a room, typed away at one of the computer consoles, looked around, then ran out. "That's Dr. Eva Core," Liara identified. "She got here about a week ago."

So we either had confirmation of one more survivor or an alternative for the inside source that made it so easy for Cerberus to hit the Mars Archives. Not that Alenko would listen, but maybe Liara would be more open-minded. Speaking of which, she looked my way. "Any luck?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Pedway's been locked out."

"All right." Liara pulled up a map of the facility on her omni-tool. "Looks like there's construction nearby. We can get out on the roof. Once we're up there, we can find a way around."

"Great," I nodded. "Let's move."

* * *

><p>Going to the roof meant putting on our helmets. Good thing too. <em>"That storm's getting close," <em>Kaidan said.

Personally, I would've said it was more than close. Dust was blowing past us so hard it almost looked like rain, though it wasn't thick enough to blot out the rails and pipes that seemed ubiquitous to construction.

"_What the hell is that?"_

The dust also didn't prevent us from seeing two trams fly along the tramway or the gunfire being exchanged between them. "Looks like the Alliance is still putting up a fight," I observed.

"That tram heads to the Archives," Liara fretted. "Once Cerberus is across, they'll be at the final security checkpoint."

"Then that's where we're headed," I declared. "Liara, upload your map to our hardsuits and let's find the fastest way there."

Turned out we had to backtrack, climb up a ladder and go through another airlock back into the facility, then try to find some corridor that would link over to the tramway. As we headed back, James contacted us. At least, he tried to contact us. He said something that sounded like _"Commander. You read me?"_

"Barely," I replied as I found another hardsuit upgrade. Why the hell someone would leave a Kassa Fabrication chest plate out on the roof and exposed to the elements is beyond me. "Storm's causing interference."

"_Tell me about it," _James said, his voice sounding almost metallic as we found a ladder and started climbing up. _"I've lost contact with the Normandy. What's your—"_

The rest was cut off. "I didn't read that, James. Repeat?"

"_I said…"_

"James? James? Damn it."

"_That storm's going to be here very soon," _Liara said. At least, this close, our comms were still functioning.

"Yeah, I think it's already here," I told her.

"_Good point... oh dear."_

"Liara?"

"_That airlock shouldn't be open."_

She was right. The Martian atmosphere was really thin. Leaving an airlock—like the one before us—wide open was criminally negligent, if not suicidal. Not to mention impossible without some significant intervention. Motioning for the team to ready their weapons, we slowly walked inside. "_Doesn't look like it was forced open," _Alenko observed.

"_It couldn't," _Liara said. _"You'd have to override security protocols."_

The inside of the room was dark, forcing us to turn on the flashlight function on our weapons. That illuminated a rather grisly scene. _"Someone vented the air from this room while they were still here," _Liara gasped.

Alenko crouched by one of the bodies. His face was grim when he got back up. _"Looks like they died trying to claw their way out," _he reported.

Death by asphyxiation. What a horrible way to go. Liara summed up my thoughts quite succinctly: _"This is brutal even by Cerberus standards."_

Meanwhile, I had found a datapad with another e-mail.

_From: Sho D'hen  
>To: Cameron Harrison<em>

_CAM!_

_Who the hell is that woman messing in my files? GET HER OUT OF HERE! I won't have my system messed up by some wannabe 'expert' who'll be gone next week! Damn strangers who think they know it all but don't care about what we're really trying to achieve here. Dr. Eva. Seriously? Don't you remember what happened LAST TIME?_

_S_

Maybe it was nothing. But it certainly confirmed that Dr. Eva had arrived recently and wasn't expected to stay very long. Still a contender for being Cerberus's inside man. Woman. Whatever.

The room really was dark. The only illumination came from our flashlights, the food kiosks and—

"_Flashlights!" _Alenko hissed.

We immediately doused the lights. As our eyes adjusted to the gloom, we could see a series of windows on the far side of the room lining a corridor of sorts. There were four Cerberus troopers standing there. Thankfully, they hadn't spotted us. _"Roger that," _one of them said. _"Delta Team out."_

"_What's our order?" _the other one asked.

"_There's an Alliance force in here somewhere. We need to keep them away from the core."_

Good luck with that, I thought as I activated my cloak. Switching to my sniper rifle, I lined up a shot on one of them, steadied my aim, breathed out…

…and turned his head into an exploding melon.

The remaining three scattered. Smart move, I had to admit. Liara wound up catching only one trooper with her singularity. Alenko chose to hit another one with his biotics, then harass him with a relentless barrage of gunfire. As for yours truly, I chose to set the floating trooper on fire, wait until my cloak had recharged, and snipe the trooper who had escaped unscathed.

That left one more seriously injured trooper—wait, what was that? Aha! Another trooper. I decided to set that one ablaze, leaving the other guy to the tender mercies of Liara and Alenko. It didn't take long for the two of them to go down, allowing me to resume my searching and looting. It didn't take long before I stumbled across a SMG weapon scope. Just as I was about to pick it up, though, I felt a couple bullets ricochet off my shields. Turning around, I saw another trooper. Did Delta Squad have a lot of stragglers or something? Or maybe it was another trooper that was only mostly dead. **(11)** Either way, it was a situation that was quickly remedied.

A little more searching found two more items of interest, along with a couple more dead civvies. The first was a medical station. The second was a set of environmental controls. Naturally, I bee-lined for the former while Liara hit the latter. _"Let me repressurize the room while Shepard's busy making up for lost time," _was how she put it. I can't imagine why.

"_There we go. We have access to the labs," _Liara announced. _"They'll take us right to the tram station."_

Alenko leaned over her shoulder. _"Hey, look over there. It's a recording of what happened here."_

The recording in question was at the terminal next to me, so I bent down and started the recording. As it loaded up, we took off our helmets. When I looked at the recording again, I saw a security officer sitting down in front of a computer. _"Security station… come in? We're seeing some odd activity down here."_

As he tried to get a response, another man walked past him and peered at some of the wall displays. _"Anyone there?" _the security officer continued. _"Our security protocols just kicked in. Everything's locked down. What's going on?"_

Dr. Core walked in a few seconds later. The security officer saw her. _"Doctor," _he greeted her. _"I'll get you a report as soon as—"_

That was when Dr. Core pulled out a pistol and opened fire. Two shots to the head, execution-style. Liara looked shocked. Alenko looked stunned. I felt vindicated. As we watched, Dr. Core quickly stepped over to the computers and began typing away like mad, pausing only to confirm that the two men were truly dead.

Liara got our attention and pointed to another vid-screen. As we watched, the airlock doors were opening—courtesy of Dr. Core. We saw men and women gasp and collapse one by one as the air was sucked out. "I guess we know how Cerberus got in," I said.

Alenko walked to a corner, too deep in thought to, I dunno, _apologize to me_. Liara shakily braced herself against the desk. "I should've realized it when I met her. I was just so focused on finding a way to stop the Reapers."

"Hey," I said gently. "Stopping the Reapers is the only thing we should be focused on. It's not your fault."

"But what if we're wrong?" Liara asked. "What if there's no way to stop them? What if these are our last days and we waste them scurrying around? Trying to solve a problem we can't fix?"

I really didn't need her to ask that, because all it did was give a voice to the fears that were screaming inside me. My heart was pounding, my mind was racing and I couldn't attribute all of that to the adrenaline that was still surging through my body from all those fights. Because she was right. A single Reaper had proven to be an overwhelming adversary. Even a dead Reaper could wreak untold amounts of havoc. But the entire Reaper force? How could we possibly stop them? Or even slow them down? I wanted to voice those questions—no. What I wanted to do was scream. Allow myself to panic. Run away and find a deep, dark corner to hide.

Unfortunately, I couldn't say any of that. I wanted to. It would certainly make me feel better. But I couldn't. I had to appear competent, confident, calm. To look like I had all the answers. Because right now Liara was looking to me for guidance. Screaming, panicking, running and hiding were simply not options I could afford right now.

I took a deep breath and stepped towards her. "Come on, Liara."

"I know." Now it was Liara's turn to breathe. "I shouldn't think that way."

"It's only natural," I said. "Despite all the warnings we've received, nothing's really prepared us for… well, this." I gestured around us.

Liara shook her head ruefully. "I don't know how you do it. You've always stayed focused, even in the worst situations."

"That's because I'm too stupid to know any better," I joked. That prompted a slightly forced chuckle from Liara. "Seriously, when there's so much at stake, I just think about what I'd lose if I fail. My crew. My friends. My family."

"That's a terrible burden," Liara observed.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Reaching over, I squeezed Liara's shoulders. "We'll stop them, Liara. Together."** (12) **

"Thanks." Liara tried to smile. "I want to believe you."

Understandable. I wanted to believe me too.

Turning away, she entered some more computer commands. "Okay. Door's open." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the door control of the corresponding door switch from red to green, signifying it was now unlocked. "We can get to the labs and tram station through there."

"Good. Let's move," was all I said.

* * *

><p>Cerberus might not have had a battalion in the Mars Archives, but they certainly had a lot of manpower. No sooner had we entered the labs than we heard someone. <em>"Echo Squad, I want a perimeter set up around the tram station,"<em> we heard someone order. _"No one gets in or out. Do you read me?"_

Judging by the crackle that accompanied the words, it sounded like an order. I looked for the source, but all I could find were some ultralight materials that could be used to upgrade a submachine gun.

"_Report!"_

I took a minute to grab Liara's submachine gun and upgrade it using the mods I'd found during my looting. Under the circumstances, we definitely needed every advantage we could scrounge up, and it was best to do so when we weren't being fired upon. Having handed the submachine gun back to Liara, I was about to lead the team up the stairs when I spotted another datapad. The e-mail was basically from someone who was admonishing another colleague for staying up late because of all the research he was doing on 'Prothean doodads' when she realized that someone was depressurizing the area. Thank you, Dr. Core.

After climbing the stairs, I happened to check my HUD before opening the doors. Good thing too: there were a good half dozen life-signs up ahead. I opened the door, sniper rifle ready to lock on a target, only to realize they hadn't seen us yet. Motioning for the team to select their targets for now, I cranked up the gain on my audio sensors.

"Why're we pulling back?" I heard one trooper ask.

"Sounds like the Alliance has sent reinforcements," the leader, I presumed, replied. "The doctor wants the Archives protected at all costs."

"Hey, that's them!" a third trooper realized.

That was our cue. Liara grabbed two or three with her singularity, which Alenko promptly blew up with a biotic blast. "Fall back!" someone yelled.

Sounded like a good time to press the attack. "Liara, Alenko; move up! I'll cover you!" I barked, just before letting loose with a stream of plasma.

As Liara and Alenko found new hiding spots and resumed firing, I peered ahead. Couple troopers and… well, this was new. Someone was carrying what looked like a giant shield. Peering through my scope, I thought I saw a slit in the shield where someone could peek through. If I could shoot through that slit, there was a good chance that I could land a headshot.

Unfortunately, my efforts were thwarted by one of the troopers who got in the way. Wasted bullet. And a thermal clip. Grr. So I waited a few seconds while Liara and Alenko had fun shooting the hostiles, spinning some of them round and round in a singularity or sending them flying when the singularity went kablooie. By that point, though, a sniper rifle would be overkill. Even a sniper rifle as pathetic as this one. So I began switching to my heavy pistol, only to realize that everyone was dead. Oh well.

With that done, it was time to catch our breath, reload, grab fresh thermal clips and—in my case—poke around. "Hey Liara, check this out!"

Liara read the datapad I found:

_From: Faiza Haikal Tkele  
>To: Sandoval Fletcher<em>

_Yeah, I know. Two external specialists in the same week is a bit insane. But I've heard about the asari before! She's really well known, and she's done some amazing research on the Protheans! I don't know zip about that Dr. Eva chick, but Liara T'Soni? She's the real thing. I'm attaching some of her advanced papers on Prothean culture. Read 'em. You'll be a believer too when you're done._

_I can't wait until they introduce her to people. This is so exciting! _

_Faiza_

"Sounds like you have a fan," I teased.

Liara tried to brush it off by rolling her eyes. The faint blush around her cheeks, however, says otherwise. I wasn't the only one who spotted it. "Hmm, looks like Shepard's onto something," Alenko chimed in.

"Really, Kaidan," Liara chided. "I might have expected this from Shepard, but you?"

"Did you meet her?" he asked.

"Did she gush about how she read all your papers?" I added.

"Did she tell you how you changed her life?"

"Did she ask for your autograph?"

"Yes, yes, Goddess yes, no and can we please continue?" Liara pleaded.

"Fine," Alenko and I sighed in unison.

We moved through the labs, skirting all the dead Cerberus hostiles and entering a hallway where—surprise, surprise—we bumped into some more troopers. Liara and Alenko tag-teamed one while I activated my cloak. I was going to use my sniper rifle, but opted to just set someone on fire instead. My cloak disengaged just as Liara put another singularity into play. Alenko looked like he was gonna do something, but my fireball got there first.

The two troopers dropped to the ground; badly injured, but still alive. "They're still coming," one of them groaned.

"Come on!" his partner urged. "Move!"

Alenko froze one of them before he could get very far. His momentum carried him into Liara's singularity. The sight of a frozen human spinning around in mid-air was kind of amusing. Though not as amusing as a guy screaming and running down the hall because I'd set him on fire again.

Just as we finished them off with gunfire, another trooper arrived. He went down in a hail of bullets and plasma. Then two more troopers arrived. I was surprised to find out that one of them had shields. He must be important. Either that, or he had the presence of mind to get some upgrades.

We kept them pinned down with gunfire, plasma and the occasional singularity. They really did want to advance, but we kept driving them back and whittling down their defences. In the end, the guy with shields went down. The other guy wound up dead and spinning around, caught in yet another singularity.

Sneaking up to the door, I spotted three more troopers in the next room, one of whom was toting a shield. Looked heavy. I tried to shoot him with my sniper rifle. I was sure I'd hit him, right through the shield. But it wasn't enough to kill him. So while Liara and Alenko kept pinning them down with bullets, I had to launch the occasional burst of plasma.

Under cloak, I entered the next room and spotted the guy with the shield. I tried again. Still didn't kill him, but the impact knocked away his shield. Even better, he staggered within range of the singularity. It was ridiculously easy to take him out after that. Not quite the same as a proper headshot, though.

I couldn't spend any more time thinking about that. The door at the far side of the room had opened, revealing another hallway and another couple troopers. "Shit!" one of them cursed. "Fall back to the tram station!"

They immediately began backing up, laying down fire to cover their retreat. I snapped off a fireball, whose incendiary damage got a boost from Alenko's biotics. Liara tried to snag a few more troopers with a singularity, but they were too fast. "Seal the door!" I heard them yell. A moment later, the door obligingly closed and locked.

I reloaded and switched back to my heavy pistol as Liara and Alenko joined me, trying to suppress my gag reflex at the smell that greeted me. "God!" Alenko gasped. "What's that stench?"

"They just activated the decontamination protocols," Liara replied.

"With the staff still inside," Alenko said quietly.

Yeah. If they weren't dead before, they were definitely dead now. Looking around, I found an active computer console. Looked like the sterilizer program for the next room—which was apparently a clean room—had been activated. Turning it off, we entered the room.

"This is where they studied the various relics unearthed here," Liara said quietly.

It was also where they kept barrels for shotguns and sniper rifles, apparently. Why, I have no idea. It's the Alliance. As great as it was to be back, there was no denying that logic wasn't a major factor in their decision process.

"What did they find?" I asked.

"More than I could describe in a short conversation. And they'd only scratched the surface. There are vaults filled with Prothean data troves that have never been studied."

A datapad I found lying around was a bit more helpful. One of the scientists who worked here had been looking at that Prothean data and had theorized, based on the way the files had been stored and organized, that they were studying humanity and monitoring our intellectual progress and evolution as a species.

I could believe that. I still remembered coming across some Prothean ruins on Eletania, back when I was hunting Saren. There was an artefact there, one that triggered a vision when I inserted an odd trinket that was given to me by the Consort. The details were sketchy at the time but, looking back, what I recalled matched the scientist's theories.

But enough about the past. I had to focus on the here and now. I checked the schematics Liara had given me. "So the tram line is… that way?" I asked, pointing to the right.

"It is," Liara confirmed. "Takes us right to the Archives. No doubt Cerberus has it locked down. Hopefully we can override it at the security station."

Hopefully, we could override it. Hopefully, we could beat Cerberus to the Archives. Hopefully, we could get the blueprints to this mysterious Prothean superweapon.

Hopefully, it wasn't too late to stop the Reapers and save the galaxy.

* * *

><p><em>(1): Despite James's service record, his scope and experiences remained rather limited, so Shepard is right in stating that he wouldn't be able to fully appreciate the situation.<em>

_(2): An unfortunate result of Shepard's time as a Spectre in 2183, where his efforts to hunt down Saren were frequently interrupted by Hackett's requests._

_(3): This would not be the first time that Shepard would mentally, and seemingly arbitrarily, choose between his roles as an Alliance officer and a Council Spectre. _

_(4): 'We Used to Be Friends', released by The Dandy Warhols in 2003. For readers wondering why Shepard's music collection remained intact, the answer is that Alliance Intelligence was searching through it for hidden messages or encrypted codes. Needless to say, they didn't find anything, possibly because they didn't understand why Shepard chose the songs he did. _

_(5): Between the lower atmospheric density and the temperature of Mars, normal human ears would not be able to hear sounds to any significant degree. However, a combination of audio sensors and, to a significantly lesser degree, genetic enhancement, might be able to detect something._

_(6): A rather crude euphemism for up or in the anus._

_(7): James had no way of knowing that Shepard did actually leave Alliance custody to complete a personal mission for then-Deputy Director Eli David of Alliance Intelligence, the details of which need not trouble us at this time._

_(8): That may be, though I've seen Shepard be thoroughly engrossed in data concerning seemingly useless bits of trivia or pop culture history. _

_(9): Let the record show that regular generation of micro-singularities is not a crime or matter of public concern. Pyromania, on the other hand, is. _

_(10): This suggests that the Cerberus squads were named using a phonetic alphabet system commonly used by the Alliance, an unfortunate offshoot of their shared origins._

_(11): A reference to The Princess Bride, a human vid released in 1987. _

_(12): It was that ability to maintain the façade of command, control and authority, even in the darkest and most hopeless situations, and inspire the men and women around him, that made Shepard such an effective leader, not to mention the best of friends. _


	4. A Long Time Ago

**Chapter 4: A Long Time Ago**

"It's just through here," Liara said.

The corridors to the tram line security station were quiet. For the first time since we'd arrived at the Mars Archives, there were no dead bodies. No Cerberus troops. Nothing but an errant M-23 Katana shotgun that someone had dropped along the way. I opened the doors—

The back of my neck tingled.

"Heads up!" Alenko yelled.

We dove for the ground as a weapons turret opened fire. "I think Cerberus was prepared for us," Liara dared to say.

"I knew this was going too well," I said wryly.

"I take it that's the only way in?" Alenko asked.

"It's the only way I know of," Liara replied, checking her schematics to make sure. "I'm afraid the only other route around that turret would require at least half an hour, and that's assuming Cerberus hasn't set up additional safeguards."

"Then we'll have to go in and skirt around it," I decided. "Stay out of its sights."

"I'll move up first," Alenko volunteered.

He was already moving forward before I could say anything. The turret tried to track him, but he'd already found cover by the time the bullets started flying. "Don't let it target you," he advised.

Gee, ya think?

I moved in next, with Liara close on my heels. Alenko timed his own advances so we all went left to right, then right to left. Ideally, we'd leapfrog forward one at a time, but we didn't have the luxury of time to permit that particular tactic. Thankfully, we managed to thwart the turret.

"Shit!" I heard Alenko curse. Well, we thwarted the turret most of the time.

It only took a minute to get past the turret, but it felt a lot longer. None of our weapons were able to deal with it, after all. Scurrying and cringing with each rapid-fire whine was a bit galling. So it was nice to open the doors and face another squad of Cerberus troopers, led by another guy protected by shields—of the kinetic barrier variety, not a physical one. **(1)**.

"Heads up, people!"

It would've been nicer if we had been able to catch them by surprise, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers. Using the telemetry from my hardsuit sensors, Liara cast a singularity that snared three troopers. Alenko and I hit them with biotics and plasma. "Hold your positions!" their leader called. For his trouble, I drained his shields with several rapid-fire shots, then set him on fire.

Another trooper found cover behind a nearby desk, whether to prepare an assault or recover from his injuries I wasn't quite sure. What I did know was that I had a clear line of sight on him, so I fired several rounds into him, switched targets to barbeque another trooper, then switched back to him again. Between my bullets and Alenko's biotics, we drove him back into Liara's singularity, where he began floating and twirling around all over again.

"Hold the station at all costs!" the leader yelled, apparently worried that his men might run away from an opponent that actually knew what they were doing. I had Alenko cover Liara and I while we found better firing positions. Easy enough to do when the odds were three-to-one in _our _favour. Then, we slowly whittled down the boss's shields, sabotaged his weapon, caught him in a singularity and finished him off.

We reloaded our weapons and grabbed some fresh thermal clips from the various troopers lying around us. I skimmed through some research notes that were contained on yet another datapad with one hand while swiping a sniper rifle mod with another. Seemed like the scientists here had finished going through a Prothean research base, but suspected the presence of another based on the layout of the communication systems and the presence of backup power supplies. What was most important, to me, was that the author had referred to the need of getting permission from The Powers That Be. **(2) **

I looted the contents of a med-kit, shook my head at the discovery of some controls for the weapons turret that would've been helpful a few minutes ago before winding up at the security station. While Alenko covered us, I did a little computer searching. "Well, what do we have here?" I said aloud.

Liara and Alenko joined me as I played a security log, starring Cerberus troopers as faceless extras and a certain individual as the main cast. _"Set up a perimeter," _Dr. Core ordered. _"No one else comes across."_

"_We still have teams on the other side," _one of the troopers told her.

Dr. Core was less than sympathetic. _"No one!" _she repeated. _"And shut down those cameras!"_

She demonstrated by shooting the camera herself. As the screens dissolved into static, Liara turned to me. "Looks like they've made it to the Archives," she said.

"And I doubt they'll just send us a tram," Alenko added.

"Maybe we can override it?" I suggested.

Liara shook her head after a minute. "The Archives are on a separate network. We're completely locked out."

"Not if we can find a short-range communicator," Alenko said thoughtfully. "Helmet to helmet."

"Say, a helmet from one of the guys we just dealt with," I said, seeing where he was going.

Alenko nodded. "Exactly. We contact them, convince them that we're on their side, tell them the Alliance reinforcements have been taken care of and ask to rendezvous with them."

"Good idea," I had to admit. "See what you can find."

I watched Alenko head off, then turned around. Liara was watching me with a… she had this look in her eyes. "What?"

"Nothing," she shrugged. "Kaidan has become very capable, that's all."

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled. "Now if he could just get his head out of his ass and stop thinking I'm gonna stab him in the back at a moment's notice."

"I think he's coming around," Liara offered.

"Really?" I challenged. "'Cause you weren't here when he asked whether I'd been in contact with the Cerberus forces who attacked the Archives."

"But since then, he's fought alongside you," Liara said. "Seen how you act. How you fight. How you give orders. That has to count for—"

"Commander! I found something."

"We'll finish this later," I told Liara before heading over to Alenko. He was in the hallway, wrestling with a trooper. "He's got a transmitter in his helmet," he grunted. "If I can… just… get this…"

With a hiss of pressurized air, the helmet retracted and…

…

...holy crap.

A grey-skinned face—slightly darker than the grey plates on the hardsuit he wore greeted us. There were red splotches on his left cheek and around his mouth, like a fresh bruise. But his eyes… his eyes were bright blue, so blue they were almost white. I couldn't distinguish the pupils from the irises. Blue-white lines stretched out from the top and bottom of both eyes like scars or tendrils.

"My god," Alenko breathed, stumbling back. "He… he looks like a husk."

"Almost," I said, crouching down to get a better look—all thanks to my insatiable and, unfortunately, non-discriminatory curiosity. "Not quite. But they've definitely done something to him."

"And by 'they', you mean Cerberus? They did this to their own guy?" He looked at me, a look of—wariness? Worry? Concern?—on his face. "Is this what they did to you?"

Oh for crying out loud. From anyone else, I'd attribute that question to concern. From him, it meant another trip through banefully familiar territory. "How can you compare me to him?" I snapped angrily. "Are my eyes glowing? Do I have any scars popping out? **(3)** Is my skin all pasty?"

"Shepard, I don't know what you are. Or who… not since Cerberus rebuilt you. For all I know, you could be their puppet, controlled by the Illusive Man himself."

Now didn't seem the time to mention that TIMmy himself vetoed the control chip. **(4)** "That's not true, Alenko. You do know. You just don't want to admit it."

"I want to, Shepard," Alenko said earnestly.

"I really do. But… I just… I gotta know: is the person I followed to hell and back still in there? Somewhere?"

Oh for crying out loud. "They didn't change me, Alenko," I bit out. "I haven't changed. Liara recognized that—and by the way, she was defending you while you were playing with that trooper over there. Saying how you'd come around. Boy was she wrong about you. But still, she recognized I was still me.

"So did Garrus. Remember him? Turian, with the visor and the stick up his ass? He believed me. Same with Tali. Never doubted me, well, not after I reminded her about how I helped her out on her Pilgrimage. And Joker. And Dr. Chakwas. And Wrex. Anderson too—he had my back all along, unlike some people. Oh, how 'bout Admiral Hackett? Not to mention my family. Hell, even people who hadn't seen me in years knew it was me. All those people believed me. Not you. So what makes you so damn special, huh?

"I wish I knew what to say. How to convince you I'm still the same guy who dragged you all over the galaxy, broke out of the Citadel and took a one-way trip from Ilos back to the Citadel. But words won't convince you, will they?"

Alenko opened his mouth, then closed it. "Probably not," he admitted.

"Didn't think so," I sighed. "Stupid, stubborn idiot."

"Stubborn?"

Really? _That _was what he objected to? "Yeah."

"Me?"

"You did spend every waking moment when we weren't hunting Saren trying to fix the flickering light on that computer console," I reminded him.

"That was different," Alenko claimed.

"Uh huh."

"No, really."

"Whatever. Come on; let's see what Cerberus is up to. Maybe we'll both get some answers." Assuming a certain someone finally took his head out of his ass so he could hear them. Reaching down, I dug the transmitter out of the helmet Alenko had pried loose and turned it on. "Hello," I said gruffly, trying to sound like one of the troopers I'd just barbequed or shot. "This is… Delta Team. Anybody there?

"_Where the hell have you been?"_

Nice to know that TIMmy's latest experiments didn't involve a personality transplant or anything that might have taught his minions some manners.

"_Never mind. What's your status?"_

"We're at the tram station, waiting for extraction," I replied. "All hostiles terminated."

"_Roger that. Echo Team will ride over and secure the station."_

"Understood," I said.

Alenko was smart enough to wait until I turned off the transmitter before asking "Think they bought it?"

"If they didn't, they'll figure it out soon enough," I shrugged. "Hopefully when we get the drop on them."

"We should get in position," Alenko suggested. "Flank them when they get off the tram."

"Agreed." Looking around, I determined where the tram would stop and assigned appropriate locations for Liara and Alenko. We didn't have to wait very long.

As soon as the tram doors opened, Liara yanked a few troopers into a singularity. While Alenko blew it up, I drilled a hole through another trooper using my sniper rifle, cloaked, launched a fireball, then scored another headshot. Because that's how I roll.

"It's a trap!" someone belatedly realized.

Gee, ya think? Not that I said that aloud.

"Fall back!" another yelled as Liara and Alenko continued their biotic barrage. Judging by all the fire flickering round, one of them—Liara, I think—re-ignited my earlier plasma to light up a few more troopers. Spotting a target, I zoomed in while my teammates rained biotic fury on their sorry asses and fired. One shot, one kill.

"They got us flanked!"

"Regroup!"

Not that they would have a chance to do that. We had the element of surprise, we were hitting them from multiple angles and we weren't letting up any time soon. As I advanced, another trooper bit the dust. As I advanced, I had to admit that whatever TIMmy had done to these guys, it was effective. Horrifying and violating, but damn effective. As I finished off a target—one still floating in Liara's singularity—with bullets and plasma, he still had the presence of mind to issue orders: "Keep them away from the tram!"

One more hostile. I set him on fire and let Liara cause a secondary explosion that blew him to smithereens. Then I boarded the tram, Liara and Alenko hot on my heels. It didn't take me long to figure out two things: first, the controls were pretty straight-forward. Second, the windows were cracked or shattered, which meant we'd be exposed to the thin Martian air while travelling to the Archives. Which meant we had to put on our helmets again.

Our helmets sealed just in the nick of time. "Storm's getting bad," I observed. "We better wrap this up quickly."

"_The Archives are right on the other side," _Liara pointed, trying to reassure me.

"_That and an angry squad of Cerberus troops," _Alenko predicted.

"Only one squad, Alenko?" I joked.

Before he could respond, an explosion knocked us off our feet and brought the tram to a screeching halt. By the time I got up, bullets were already flying through the air. _"Take out that tram!"_

By now, our response was pretty much automatic. Singularity. Merry-go-round. Biotics. Boom. Hee.

"_Keep your heads down!"_ I heard. Curiously, it sounded like it was coming from somewhere else. Then I heard _"You're not getting across!"_ I figured that was meant for us.

Activating my cloak, I saw another tram approaching—carrying at least a few troopers, one of whom was doing the talking I'd heard a second ago. So I sent a fireball towards the opposing tram before turning back and firing my sniper rifle. I paused long enough to see his head disintegrate in a cloud of blood and bone before preparing for the next wave of hostiles.

Apparently, they were smart enough to recognize that fire equals bad. _"Wait for 'em to show their heads."_

Good plan, in theory. Problem was, when we showed our heads, it was so we could fire a sniper round into their noggins or rip them apart with some biotics. Looking around, I didn't see any more hostiles. A quick check also told me that the tram we were on wouldn't be running again any time soon. So I hopped onto the one that the other troopers—Echo Squad, presumably—had used. _"Damn," _Alenko said as he joined me. _"They _really _didn't want us getting in here."_

"_Yes, it confirms my assertions about the value of the data stored here," _Liara replied.

That sounded like something Miranda would say…

…

Shit. Miranda.

It had been six months and… a week? Two weeks? I know there was a day or two in there somewhere. I hadn't seen her in ages. Not even when the idiots keeping me in lockdown condescended to let me see visitors. Because someone with former ties to Cerberus couldn't exactly waltz into a secure facility. Even if she was one of the most important people in my life, an achievement that was even more remarkable considering how little time I had to know her. And fall in love with her.

I hadn't thought about her since the Reapers first arrived. It had been one wide-eyed, adrenaline-pumping, bullet-flying, plasma-burning race from lockdown through the rooftops of Vancouver to the spaceport to Mars to the Prothean Archives. Where was she? What was she doing? Was she all right?

Would I ever see her again?

I didn't know the answers to any of those questions and I didn't dare try. Partly because my mind would inevitably go to the worst-case scenario. Or scenarios—there's something seriously wrong with me. Partly because I really, _really _needed to get my head in the game. No matter how badly I wanted to do otherwise.

So I took a deep breath and hit the controls. The tram started moving.

Next stop: the Archives.

* * *

><p>As much as I hated to admit it, there was no denying the fact that Alenko was right. When we reached the other side and the tram stopped, there was a squad of Cerberus troops waiting for us.<p>

And they were definitely angry.

We immediately took out a trooper with a singularity, a round of biotics and some plasma. In response, one of the troopers tossed out a grenade. I braced myself for an explosion. Instead, I got a large cloud of smoke that obscured our view. Undeterred, I sent a stream of plasma into the smoke and shuffled to the other side of the crates I'd been hiding behind. A trooper was hiding a few metres away. Liara pulled him out with another singularity, allowing me to shoot him a couple times before finishing him off with another fireball.

Heading to the other side again—a moving target's always harder to hit—I opened fire on another trooper. To his credit, he managed to fire back. Unfortunately, he had nothing in his repertoire to withstand Liara's biotics.

More smoke. I snapped off a few rounds in their general direction, reloaded and had Alenko move up. Meanwhile, I lunged out of cover and rolled to the left. The two troopers weren't expecting that. I quickly finished one off with a dozen shots from my pistol. The other trooper—one of the higher-ups, judging by his shields—turned around and lifted his weapon… only to find himself floating up into the air. I emptied the rest of my clip into him after Alenko gave him a biotic what-for, set him on fire, reloaded and fired several more shots to make sure he was dead.

There were another half dozen troopers were in the area. I kept them pinned down with more gunfire. Liara disabled one with another singularity, which made it really easy for me to shoot him. I rushed forward and hopped into this little depression in the ground. The troopers whirled around, realized where I was and started backing up. I encouraged that with another fireball right in their faces. One of them was so eager to get away he stumbled into Liara's singularity. He never got the chance to make up for his mistake.

As I ordered Liara to move, one of them finally put two and two together. _"Holy shit, that's Shepard!" _

"_You have a fan," _Liara told me sweetly. Evidently she still remembered how Alenko and I had teased her earlier.

"Not now, Liara," I said tersely.

To make it up to me, Liara spawned another singularity, sending the poor schmuck spinning over our heads. Meanwhile, I fired a full clip into another guy, draining his shields in the blink of an eye. He and his colleague got caught up in yet another singularity, just before I launched a fireball in their midst. Some more biotics, a lot more gunfire and a plasma burst from yours truly finished them off.

Still two more hostiles—either my earlier and admittedly hasty count was off or a straggler had arrived late. One of them was carrying another giant shield. I quickly switched to my sniper rifle and fired. The bullet went right through the slit in the shield, through his helmet and into his brain. _Finally. _

While Liara and Alenko took out the other trooper with biotics and bullets, I did a quick look around. At least two more hostiles. My tactical awareness couldn't have been _that _rusty. Clearly some backup had arrived. As soon as they realized they'd been made, they tossed down some smoke grenades. I fired off a few shots, mostly to use up the rest of my clip and reload than anything else, then turned to the other side. The rest of the team had finished off the trooper they'd been tangling, only to find themselves facing three more troopers—two of whom were behind shields while advancing forward.

I pulled out my sniper rifle, hoping that I could get lucky again, only to find that Liara wasn't willing to wait. Using her biotics, she yanked them in the air one at a time. Her singularities were so strong and so sudden that they lost their grip on their shields. Alenko and I amused ourselves by hitting them with biotics and sniper rounds.

Meanwhile, Liara was amusing herself with another trooper. They were literally running around in circles, chasing and shooting at each other. I watched them for a few seconds, waited a little longer to make sure Liara was out of harm's way, then let loose another torrent of plasma.

Believe it or not, there was still one more trooper. I ran forward, fired a few shots and set him on fire. He tried to slap out the flames, only to have Alenko help him out when he froze him solid. Helpless, the trooper could only watch as I emptied the rest of my clip into him, the final shot shattering him into a pile of ice and frozen fleshy bits.

After that, we finally had a chance to reload and stock up on thermal clips. In the interests of clearing the room and satisfying my kleptomania, I dug up an M-15 Vindicator assault rifle, a shotgun upgrade and a med-kit.

By the time I was done, I was starting to get tired—and not because the adrenaline was wearing off. No, it was because of all the weight I was carrying. Seemed like only yesterday that I'd run around the galaxy, merrily looting every gun, hardsuit, weapon mod, grenade mod, biotic amp mod and omni-tool mod—until I physically ran out of room to carry them all and was forced to convert the excess inventory to omni-gel. Now? One sniper rifle, one heavy pistol, one assault rifle, one shotgun, one submachine gun and a handful of weapon mods were enough to make me stagger. Note to self: I'd _definitely _have to make some hard choices about what to bring on my next mission.

After I finished this one, of course. Assuming I survived this one, of course. Stopping at the door, I waited for my teammates to be ready and hit the controls before charging into the room.

In front of us stood a cluster of Prothean beacons, including an honest-to-gosh beacon, surrounded by a column of reinforced glass, holographic displays and a lot of computers. "Alenko," I said. "Secure the room."

While he did that, Liara and I walked towards the artifacts. All made of smooth metal, unmarked and unmarred other than a series of thin glowing lines that traced their contours. It was incredible. The first time I saw one was on Eden Prime. That one had rammed a garbled and distorted vision into my brain before exploding into smithereens. Hopefully we wouldn't have to go down that road again.

Scanning the air, I saw that this room was pressurized, so I took off my helmet. Liara followed suit before busying herself by one of the computers. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the holograms flicker. Flicker again. It dissolved into a cluster of dots—no, more like horizontal lines. Then all of that expanded into a black-and-white—well, blue and white—hologram of a man. Mostly solid, aside from the grid lines and bright blue highlights outlining his frame. Wearing what was no doubt a very expensive and custom-fitted suit. He pulled a cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled. _"Shepard."_

Liara was so engrossed in her work that she hadn't seen his arrival. Having realized we weren't alone, she whirled around and pulled out her heavy pistol. She stopped herself from wasting a bullet on the hologram just in the nick of time. "Illusive Man," she said.

"_Fascinating race, the Protheans,"_ TIMmy said, gesturing towards the beacon while ignoring Liara. _"They left all this for us to discover, but we've squandered it. The Alliance has known about the Archives for more than thirty years, and what have they done with it?" _

He always did like to pontificate. "What do you want?" I asked.

He looked at me, his eyes even more relentless and creepy than usual thanks to their holographic depiction. Those eyes drifted from me to focus on the Prothean artifacts behind me. _"What I've _always _wanted," _he finally replied. _"The data in these artifacts hold the key to solving the Reaper threat."_

"'Solving'?" I repeated. "I've seen how you solve threats. I've had to clean up enough of them in the past. And have you seen your latest handiwork? Your 'solutions' are turning your own people into monsters."

"_Hardly. They're being improved."_

I really shouldn't be surprised. Not by this point. "Improved?"

"_That's what separates us, Shepard: you're too small-minded. Too limited. Where you see a means to destroy I see a way to control—to dominate and harness the Reapers' power for the benefit of our species. Imagine how strong humanity would be if _we _controlled _them."

Oh for crying out loud. "Earth is under siege," I told him. "Right now. Cities are under attack, people are dying and you're busy hatching some half-baked scheme to control the Reapers?"

"_You've always been short-sighted," _TIMmy chided. _"Hasty. Your destruction of the Collector base proved that."_

"I destroyed that base because it was a floating fortress of horrors," I snapped. "I destroyed it because nothing it offered could possibly be worth the lives of everyone who had been abducted, liquefied and 'processed.' I destroyed it because I didn't trust _you _with any information or technology that could come from it."

TIMmy took another puff from his cigarette. _"This isn't your fight any longer, Shepard. You can't defeat the Reapers, even with the Prothean data."_

"Wanna bet?" I asked with a bravado I didn't entirely feel. But I couldn't let him know that. "I've done it before, I'll do it again."

"_More likely you'll just die trying," _TIMmy corrected. _"Destroying the Reapers is a wasted opportunity. Don't you see? We can dominate them. Use their power. Harness their very essence to bring humanity forward to the apex of evolution." _

"Are you even listening to yourself?" I wanted to know. "Do you know how crazy that is? Can't you see that the Reapers will kill us all if we don't stop fighting each other?"

"_I don't expect you to understand, Shepard," _TIMmy sighed. _"And I'm certainly not looking for your approval."_

"Good," I retorted. "'Cause you're not getting it."

"_You were a tool," _TIMmy continued, as if I hadn't said anything. _"An agent with a singular purpose. And despite our differences, you were relatively successful."_

"Stop it. Please. I'm blushing."

TIMmy ignored that too. _"But like the rest of the relics in this place, your time is over."_

The relics. Glancing back, I realized that Liara had been just as engrossed in this conversation as I was. **(5)** I silently motioned for Liara to get back to the computers and find those weapon schematics.

"_Don't interfere with my plans, Shepard," _TIMmy warned. _"I won't warn you again."_

"Duly noted," I said coldly.

"Shepard!"

Aw, crap. That didn't sound good. Turning back, I saw a look of worry and, dare I say it, panic on Liara's face. "What?"

"The data. It's not here. It's being erased!"

"_Goodbye, Shepard."_

Ignoring the disappearance of TIMmy's hologram, I focused on Liara. "Damn it! How's he doing it?"

Liara's fingers flew over the keyboard. "Tracing. It's local. Wait—it's not being erased! Someone's uploading the information!"

I quickly opened a comm channel to Alenko. "Tell me you heard that," I said.

"_I heard it, Shepard. _All _of it." _

Now what did that mean?

"_Hey! Step away from the console!"_

Sounded like he'd found whoever was uploading the data we needed. I pulled up a map on my HUD to locate Alenko's current position.

"_I said step away. Now."_

There he was. And there was a second life-sign… no. Not quite. It was… something was definitely there, but it didn't quite register as…

"_Gah!"_

Every artifact went dark. Warning lights flashed in my HUD. Liara and I barely got our helmets back on before the room depressurized. "Alenko!" I snapped.

"_Dr. Core. She's here! She's got the data!"_

"I see her," I replied. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>"<em>She's faster than she looks," <em>Liara observed.

She wasn't kidding: I'd seen professional athletes race in everything from marathons to 100-metre sprints. Dr. Core was putting all of them to shame. But two could play that game, assuming that all my implants and enhancements hadn't gotten rusty during the last six months. "Stay close! We can't lose her!"

I set off in hot pursuit, Liara and Alenko right behind me. As we ran, my sensors began scanning. She had one hell of a shield package, one that was especially impressive since it came from a portable generator and not a hardsuit. Unless they made hardsuits that were thin enough to fit under clothes. **(6)** The shields briefly dimmed, losing a bit of strength as they were hit by what looked like an EMP. "Who did that?"

"_Me,"_ Alenko admitted.

"You had an EMP all this time and you didn't think to use it?" I asked.

"_We didn't really need it against those other troopers."_

"_Can we talk about this later?"_ Liara asked.

"Fine," we said in unison.

Liara and Alenko tried to slow her down with random bursts of biotics and bullets, to no avail. She ran through a set of doors, which closed behind her. When I opened them again, she greeted me with a stream of plasma. "Hey!" I said, outraged despite myself. "That's _my _shtick!"

"_Shepard!" _

"Yeah, yeah. I know, Liara. Not now."

We had Dr. Core cornered, or so I thought. Before I could do anything, she hit a set of controls. Metal panels dropped, turning an open-concept chamber into a sealed cubicle. Then she crouched down and jumped, bursting through the ceiling. I looked down at the floor and up at the gaping hole, jaw dropping for a moment, before recovering and lunging for the controls. _"There she is!" _Liara said as the panels retracted.

"Stay on her!" I yelled, vaulting over the consoles and resuming the chase.

"_We're losing her,"_ Liara warned as Dr. Core rounded the corner and disappeared from view. I ran around the corner, hoping I wouldn't be greeted with another fireball. Instead, I found… nothing. She'd disappeared.

Telling myself to calm down, I quickly looked around. Dead end. Ladder. No grates to ventilation shafts or tunnels. No holes. Must've taken the ladder. Sure enough, when I reached the top, I saw her. She was running across the ceiling of the Archives, only 10 metres away.

And shooting at us. "Watch out!"

Finding cover, I pulled out my heavy pistol, only to see her duck before I could line up a clear shot. She popped up to fire and ducked back down again, but not before I saw something odd. Something really, really odd: she wasn't wearing a helmet. Or even a rebreather. I mean, all she had were the clothes she was wearing when we first saw her. And, now that I had a good look at her face, a blue transparent visor running over her eyes. How the heck was that possible? Even someone with Miranda's level of genetic enhancements couldn't survive for that long.

Before I could ponder that question any longer, Dr. Core got up and ran off again. I got up and chased her. 9 metres. 10 metres. 11 metres. Damn it. Alenko tried to zap her shields again with a similar lack of success. As we ran, a shuttle flew overhead. Her escape route, judging by the Cerberus logo stamped on the side.

Stifling a curse, I tried to slow her down with a fireball. No good. She was going to get away. 12 metres. 13 metres. I doubled my efforts, pouring every ounce of strength into my legs. 11 metres. Ten. Seven. Six. Five. Three.

One metre.

She vaulted over a support brace. Six. Seven. Nine. Damn it.

"_Down there," _Liara yelled.

I saw her. Running down a ramp like her life depended on it. I was doing the same. Eight metres. Seven. Six. Five. Three.

Rounding the corner, I saw Dr. Core had put on another burst of speed. She was ten metres away. Again. How the hell was she doing it? "James?" I yelled, activating the comm. "You read me?"

A burst of static came back, with a garbled incoherent mess of sounds. Hoping things were clearer on his end than mine, I gave him a quick sitrep in between biotic and plasma bursts. **(7) ** "Cerberus has the data."

More garbled nonsense. "Radio the Normandy! Get them down here now!"

Dr. Core was climbing another ladder, with yours truly right behind her. She was still ahead of me, but I was able to keep her within three to five metres. When I popped up on what looked like a landing pad, she opened fire. Ignoring all the damage she was doing to my shields, I simply charged forward.

A loud roar overhead heralded the arrival of the Cerberus shuttle. It slowed down near the edge of the landing pad, hatch opening for Dr. Core to run onboard. "Damn it!" I couldn't help but curse. "She's getting away!"

I broke out into a sprint. Too late: Dr. Core had made it. The hatch closed and the shuttle took off. I had to screech to a halt before I ran off the landing pad and plummeted to the ground below. "Damn it!" I repeated myself. "James? Normandy?

"Anybody?"

On the horizon, I saw a light pierce through the storm. The light grew larger, resolving into another shuttle. A blue shuttle with white and black trim.

"_I got this one!"_

"James? The Cerberus shuttle's right in—James? Slow down. You're gonna—"

There was a loud bang as the two shuttles collided in mid-air. The Cerberus shuttle spun around, trailing a stream of fire and smoke, as it dropped down towards…

…

…aw, crap. "Move!"

We jumped out of the way just before the Cerberus shuttle crashed back on the landing pad. It slid by us, narrowly missing us by mere inches, sending up a burst of sparks as it rolled over and over. Finally, it slowed to a stop. It was now covered in dents and scorch marks. Flames roared from the shattered windows. One of the engine thrusters abruptly sagged, barely hanging on by a few wires and a severely damaged sheet of metal.

James's shuttle was in significantly better shape, slowly circling around us before entering a more controlled descent. At least, I thought it was controlled until the shuttle dropped the last few metres and bounced off the landing pad, separating Alenko and I from Liara. I swear my bones were still vibrating when the hatch popped open. I shook my head as Alenko got to his feet.

"_Normandy's en route," _I heard James report. _"They'll be here soon."_

"Check on Liara," I replied.

"_I'm fine," _I heard her protest. _"Don't worry about me. We need the data."_

"Agreed," I said. Well, I was going to say it but then I heard a loud bang. Then another bang. Alenko and I turned around.

There was a pause.

Then the hatch opened with such force that it ripped right off its hinges. It flew towards me, a large plate of metal alloy rapidly closing at what was sure to be terminal velocity. I found myself frozen, rooted to the spot as the hatch grew larger and larger. This was it, I realized. This was how it was going to end. Not at the hands of the Reapers, but because of a damn shuttle hat—

"_Shepard!"_

Another force hit me, knocking me sideways. The hatch clipped me, spinning me around so quickly I was dizzy when I hit the ground. And out of breath. When my eyes focused, I saw…

…

Alenko. He'd pushed me out of the way. I looked at him blankly. He looked back. Then we stared at the now-open Cerberus shuttle and the flames that engulfed its interior.

A mech emerged out of the inferno. It was slim. Lithe. Feminine. Its chassis was totally scorched. A blue visor running over her eyes—wait a second. If you took the basic body proportions, added some clothes and skin, you got…

….

…Dr. Core.

Whoa.

She ran towards me with an unnatural speed that now made total sense. I saw the look of cold, determined intent on her face before someone—Alenko—stepped in the way. Feet in Alliance-standard firing position, he raised his pistol and emptied the full clip into her. Didn't make a difference. Dr. Core closed the gap, slapped the pistol out of his hands and lifted him up. Judging by the position and the way Alenko was struggling, it looked like she had a vice grip on his face. Well, the front of his helmet anyway.

"Kaidan!" I yelled, stumbling to my feet. **(8)** "Dr. Core—or whatever the hell you are—let him go! Now!"

The Dr. Core mech lifted a hand to the side of her visor, clearly activating some sort of comm system. _"Orders?" _she asked.

She got her answer. Turning around, she backed up and began slamming Kaidan into the side of the shuttle. And again. And again.

"No!" I yelled to no avail. The shuttle was practically buckling under the mech's repeated onslaught. I didn't want to think about the damage she was doing to Kaidan. She slammed him one more time before letting him go. He collapsed to the ground.

And didn't move.

I saw James stumble around the corner, half-carrying Liara. When they saw what was happening, they fumbled with their weapons. But they wouldn't get them ready in time. Not when the mech was charging towards me again.

This time I was ready. I grabbed my heavy pistol, absently noting that the crash had disabled the mech's shields, and opened fire. Three shots hit the mech. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

The mech dropped like the puppet it was, bereft of any strings to keep it standing. I stood there. Staring at it. Daring for it to stir again. But it just lay there. Still. Lifeless. Like Kaidan.

Oh God. Kaidan.

"Grab that thing," I ordered as I raced towards Kaidan's body. "Bring it with us."

"_Shepard!"_ It was Joker. _"We've got Reaper signatures in orbit."_

I couldn't worry about that right now. "Kaidan." I dropped to my knees and reached over, stopping myself from shaking him just in the nick of time. With all the trauma he'd undoubtedly received, that was probably a really bad idea. "Kaidan!"

No response.

I hoisted Kaidan over my shoulders. James had done the same with the mech. On some level, I saw the Normandy swoop down, slowing with a grace that only a pilot of Joker's calibre could handle. The four of us—plus the mech—limped onboard. I turned around as the ramp to the shuttle bay closed. Through the doors, I could see the Reapers landing, one by one. Just for a moment. Then the storm swept in again and the Reapers disappeared.

* * *

><p>We made our way to sickbay. I gently lowered Kaidan onto one of the beds. James dropped the mech on another with considerably less TLC. <strong>(9)<strong> Reaching over, I disengaged the helmet seals and pulled the helmet off.

He just… lay there.

Liara bent down, catching my eye. "Kaidan needs medical attention."

Yeah, he did. And why was Liara speaking so loud?

"We have to leave the Sol system," she said slowly.

"I know," I replied. "But…"

"The Citadel is our best chance. We can find help there."

She was right. About everything. Even when fully staffed, the Normandy's sickbay was never designed or intended for the kind of surgery or intensive care that Kaidan would undoubtedly require. It was only meant for combat first-aid, to stabilize the injured until they could be delivered to more advanced facilities. And there were no facilities more advanced than the ones on the Citadel.

But we'd never get there if we didn't leave now. The Reapers were still sweeping through the system. They hadn't caught up to us yet, but that could change at any moment. I took a deep breath, then let it out. "Joker, get us to the Citadel. Let them know we've got someone who needs immediate medical attention."

"_Roger that."_

"Hold on, Kaidan," I whispered.

He didn't say anything.

"Liara, see what you and EDI can learn from that thing," I ordered, pointing to the mech.

As if she heard me—actually, she probably did—EDI spoke up over the comm. _"Commander, I'm receiving a signal over the secondary QEC. I believe it's Admiral Hackett."_

Hackett. Yeah, he'd want to know—wait. QEC? As in quantum entanglement communicator? I thought the only QEC we had on the Normandy was linked to TIMmy? But she said secondary QEC, so maybe another set of particles had been entangled while I was in lockup. Only one way to find out, I suppose. "Patch it through."

"_I'll forward it to the comm room," _EDI replied as I ran out of the sickbay.

* * *

><p>One benefit of consistently going on daily rounds to harass your crew was that you gained a pretty good idea of where everything was, so much so that you didn't need to think about it. So I basically left the sickbay, found the elevator, went up to Deck Two and made my way to the comm room on autopilot. There were a few differences that I vaguely noticed. New paint. Lighting. Different people. But I couldn't spare the mental effort to note any of that. Not right now.<p>

The comm room looked different too, but it was easy to see where Hackett was. Or where he was supposed to be. I just had to look for the blurred image that flickered in and out so quickly it looked more like a man-shaped cloud of blue particles than an Alliance admiral. _"Sheeepard, are you reading meeeeee?" _I barely made out. _"Command-d-d-d-d-der?"_

This was ridiculous. For once, I'd like to have a single long-distance chat that was actually intelligible. "EDI, can you clear this up?" I asked.

"_I'll do my best."_

Hackett's image crystallized first. Don't get me wrong: it still looked blue-and-white, but the detail was so crisp, I could swear the stripes on his uniform were gold-coloured. _"Did you get to the Arcc-ch-ch-chives?" _he asked.

Close enough. "I was there," I nodded. "So was the Illusive Man."

Hackett rested his chin on one hand, his other hand moving to brace that arm. Anderson had once told me it was an old habit of his. _"I was worried Cerberus might try something," _he reluctantly admitted. _ "Did you get the data?"_

"Most of it," I replied. "He downloaded some before I could stop him. EDI and Liara are analyzing what we recovered."

Speaking of Liara, she entered the comm room just as I finished. Hackett saw her too. _"Doctor. What have you learned? Was it worth the effort?"_

"Preliminary evidence suggests the data is a blueprint for a Prothean device," Liara confirmed.

"_Device?"_

In response, Liara entered a command on her omni-tool. A hologram of the device shimmered to life beside us, Prothean script running up and down on either side. As Hackett and I turned our heads to look at it, she continued. "A weapon, massive in size and scope, that's capable of unquantifiable levels of destruction."

Gee, where did I hear that before?

"_Send me the data," _Hackett ordered. _"We'll do our own analysis. If Liara's instincts are right, this might be the key to stopping the Reapers."_

"I hope so," I sighed, leaning against a railing set in front of the holo-projectors. "Sir, you should know that Major Alenko was critically injured. We're taking him to the Citadel."

"_Sorry to hear that, Shepard. But we both know this is just the beginning." _He managed to say that with a note of sympathy, but the tone was still polite and matter-of-fact. I couldn't blame him. If I'd had any illusions that this war would be simple, clean and easy, the last few hours had blown them right out of the water. There would be billions of deaths and injuries of all sorts throughout the galaxy. I would have to walk a fine line between being motivated and being overwhelmed by all those casualties.

"_Talk to the Council," _Hackett urged. "_Show them what you've found. With luck, they'll give you all the support we need."_

I tried not to laugh. "Anderson said the same thing. I'll do my best, but... what if they aren't that accommodating?"

The response was blunt and to the point: _"Do whatever it takes to get them on board."_

Before I knew it, I was standing to attention and saluting him. Old habits, I guess.

Hackett saluted me back. _"I'll be in touch soon. Hackett out." _Then his hologram faded away.

"Commander?"

I didn't answer at first. What did Liara want? If she was looking for support… I didn't know if I had it in me.

"EDI is extracting data from the Cerberus machine and continuing our analysis. We'll have details to present to the Council by the time we reach the Citadel."

"Good. That's… that's good," I managed. "And Major—and Kaidan?"

"I've done what I can for him, but we need to get him to the Citadel soon."

Pushing myself away from the railing, I headed out of the comm room. "The Admiral's right," Liara said as I passed her. "It's going to get worse, isn't it?"

I slowed to a stop and looked at her. "Unless we stop the Reapers… yeah."

Liara turned to follow me as we left the comm room and entered a larger, circular room. It consisted of two split-levels, the upper one filled with computer stations and displays, the lower, central one devoted to a few computer consoles surrounding a round holo-projector. "I've looked at the data," Liara was saying. "This weapon could be the answer if we can build it."

She paused before adding "I get the sense you don't believe it, though."

Damn. That façade of unassailable leader-type confidence must've cracked. I tried to recover, tried to look all strong and mighty…

…

…then gave up. "You didn't see what they did to Earth," I said quietly. "Fighters and shuttles being blown out of the sky, ships exploding everywhere, husks and worse running amok. Civilians running for their lives. And the Reapers just kept coming. Kept landing. Kept marching through the streets. Kept killing… How is one weapon supposed to stop them? How can one weapon possibly stop them?"

"What are our options?" Liara said. "You know we can't win this conventionally."

I rubbed a hand over my eyes. It was cold and hard. Belatedly, I remembered I was still wearing my hardsuit. I hadn't had a chance to take it off.

"Commander."

I looked at Liara. She offered me a reassuring smile; trying to boost my morale the way I boosted hers back on Mars. How the tables had turned… "Isn't it worth trying at least?" she asked softly.

This was a far cry from the doubts she'd expressed back on Mars. She was right, I guess. It was worth trying. Probably worth it. Maybe. But I… I just didn't know. And I didn't have it in me to lie or pretend otherwise.

Not now, anyway. "I'm going to check on Kaidan and James," I said instead. I took a few steps before slowing down and turning around. "Make sure we're ready to present our findings to the Council."

"I'm sure the Council will see the need to help," she tried.

"It'll be a hell of a short war if they don't," I replied.

* * *

><p>As I entered the next room, a message popped up on one of the displays. <em>"Please put on your helmet," <em>it said, so I complied. "EDI?"

"_Shepard. I assumed you wanted to hear my status report privately."_

"Status report?" I asked blankly. I checked the comm frequency EDI was using. It was encrypted.

"_You assigned me a task in the shuttle bay before departing for the Mars Archives."_

Oh yeah! I'd completely forgotten, what with everything that had happened. "And?" I prompted.

"_Modifications are complete. The results are… not optimal, but they are the best I could do with the available resources."_

"Good," I replied. "Proceed with deployment."

"_Understood, Commander."_

This war was going to take everything I had—everything _we _had—and then some. The costs were going to be high, as I'd already seen. If we were going to have any chance at coming out of this alive, we'd need every advantage we could get. Maybe this Prothean weapon would be our salvation. Maybe not.

Either way, it was reassuring to know I had another card to play.

* * *

><p><em>(1): Eventually, the former would come to be referred to as 'Centurions' and the latter as 'Guardians'. <em>

_(2): A less-than-flattering term Shepard used to refer to the Citadel Council, usually with the acronym 'TPTB.' In this case, it is unclear as to whether the author was referring to the Council or the Alliance. The coincidence, however, is notable._

_(3): By his own account, the implants used to bring Shepard back from the dead did result in glowing eyes and scars popping out._

_(4): Shepard's nickname for the Illusive Man._

_(5): I was distracted, despite my best efforts. I can't describe what it was like to be there, watching as Shepard and the Illusive Man talked and debated. _

_(6): Miranda's 'hardsuit' might come to mind for attentive readers. The truth was something different, as we would soon find out._

_(7): Alliance military shorthand for situation report, which summarized what was presently happening._

_(8): I trust readers will recognize the significance of Shepard's sudden shift to Kaidan's first name._

_(9): An acronym for Tender Loving Care._


	5. The More Things Change

_**Author's Note:**_

_Readers should be aware that the next few chapters will concentrate primarily on conversations within the Citadel and aboard the Normandy. For those of you who choose to persevere, I can promise a few tweaks from the canon conversations, plenty of Shepard's point of view, encounters that are decidedly non-canon or occur earlier than expected and a couple original developments. _

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: The More Things Change <strong>

We arrived at the Citadel and docked at Bay D24. I'm sure it was as amazing and breathtaking as always, but I couldn't be bothered to stand by a window and take in the scenery. Not this time.

A team of medics were waiting for us. They were thoroughly briefed, thanks to all the medical reports and sitreps I'd been sending them on a regular basis, but they still needed to do a quick assessment of their own. For legal reasons. And maybe medical ones. At least they did it while lifting Kaidan—who hadn't opened his eyes since that mech assaulted him on Mars—loading him on a stretcher and running out the airlock. "Barely got a pulse here," one of them announced.

"Move him out," a turian medic barked, somewhat redundantly.

"Where you taking him?"

"Huerta Memorial," the turian replied over his shoulder. **(1)** "Best care on the Citadel."

I hoped so. I was no doctor, but I'd seen enough injuries and wounds to know that Kaidan was in horrific shape. Even with Joker pulling off every trick in the book—and making up a few of his own—to get here, it was a miracle that Kaidan had lasted this long.

Liara and James joined me. She watched the medics leave with Kaidan. James was busy looking around so quickly it was a miracle he didn't get whiplash. I had the feeling he hadn't been here before. He finally noticed what was going on and pointed at the medics. "We're not going with?" James asked.

"We need to see the Council," Liara reminded him.

"Right. Uh… looks like they might be coming to see you."

I followed the direction of his gaze. He was half right, I suppose. The man approaching me wasn't from the Council, but he was here to see me. "Commander Shepard. Got word you were arriving."

"Captain Bailey," I greeted him, shaking his hand firmly. "Good to see you again."

"You too—though it's 'Commander' now."

Ouch. "Um… I'm sorry?"

Bailey looked at me blankly before realizing what I was thinking. "C-Sec ranks are a little different than Alliance, Shepard. It's actually a promotion. One big step closer to Executor, as a matter of fact."

To my ears, he didn't sound all that thrilled. "Congratulations?" I tried.

He grunted. "Thanks," he said sourly. "Now half my job is dealing with political bullshit and escorting dignitaries around." Belatedly, he added 'No offense."

Wow. From pariah under house arrest to reinstated Commander and honorary dignitary. Who says I don't lead a charmed life? "None taken. This is Dr. T'Soni and Lieutenant Vega," I introduced. "Guys, Cap—_Commander_ Bailey. When I first met him, he was in charge of the precinct on Zakera Ward."

Everyone said their hellos and shook hands. "So you're here to bring us to the Council?" I asked.

Bailey paused. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. Aw, crap. He motioned for us to follow him. As we walked, he began to talk. "I'm here to tell you the Council is expecting you, but they're dealing with their own… problems with the war and everything. They apologize for the inconvenience and… blah, blah, blah, blah," he finished, giving up on relaying the political bullshit. "Meet them at Udina's office, right over here." He uploaded the latest schematics of the Citadel, with Udina's office highlighted. "They'll be ready soon enough."

"All right," I sighed. "Better than nothing."

"You might have time to go by the medical centre, if you want to check on progress over there," he added. "I overheard the docs saying your man was going to Huerta Memorial Hospital? It's the best spot on the Citadel and it's on the Presidium, not far from the Embassies."

"Thanks," I said, "I think I'll do that."

"You go on ahead," Liara said. "I'll head up to Udina's office and brief him."

"One of my men can show you the way," Bailey said, waving an officer down. "And you?" he asked James.

"I'm just a tourist today," he shrugged. "I'll try not to get into any trouble."

"I'd appreciate that," Bailey nodded. James gave me a quick salute before wandering off. Bailey was about to say something when he suddenly raised a hand to his ear. I could actually hear the report over the comm: _"Commander, we've got a situation in the embassy quarters. We could use your help." _**(2)**

"I'll be right there," he said. To me, he added "The other half of my job. I'll see you around, Shepard."

"No doubt," I called out as he headed off.

* * *

><p>I took the elevator straight to Huerta Memorial Hospital. It was a big place. Wide, open spaces. Trees and other fauna planted everywhere. Simulated sunlight streaming in through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was a reception area for a hotel rather than a hospital. Mind you, this was the admitting area. Maybe that explained the scenery.<p>

There was a kiosk for Sirta Supplies, presumably a subsidiary or offshoot of the Sirta Foundation. I was about to check out what they had when I spotted a blast from the past. Two blasts, actually. I quickly made my way over. "Dr. Chakwas, Dr. Michel. The two of you are working here?"

"I'm working at an Alliance R&D lab down in Shalta Wards, actually," Dr. Chakwas corrected, "coordinating closely with Admiral Hackett. I heard you escaped Earth in the Normandy and that someone was critically injured. I came as fast as I could."

Dr. Michel stepped aside, ostensibly to consult with another doctor while giving the two of us some space. "We had a run-in with a Cerberus synthetic on Mars," I explained. "Kaidan took the worst of it. How's he doing?"

"Very well, all things considered," she reassured me. "I'm impressed with Major Alenko's resilience, as well as Dr. Michel's expertise. He was more or less stabilized by the time I arrived." She took a step forward. "I wish I could have been there to help on Mars."

"I wish a lot of people could've been there," I said. "But hey, it's been six months, Doctor. How have you been?"

"Good." We stepped towards the huge windows I observed earlier, taking in the stunning view of the Presidium. This must be a prime spot of real estate. I focused on what Dr. Chakwas was saying: "I've been fortunate. When they impounded the Normandy, the Alliance didn't really know what to do with me. I was never officially part of Cerberus and I'd gotten a proper leave of absence from my previous post."

My shoulders sagged with relief. "So you hadn't technically done anything wrong by joining me to defeat the Collectors," I concluded.

"Yes, though I suppose if you were judged to be a war criminal, I would have been tried as an accessory."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't have to face that and you managed to get back on your feet," I smiled. "I have to say, it seems a little weird. I know you've got a research background, but… I dunno, I've always felt your place was in Normandy's med bay, not some lab on the Citadel."

You should've seen her eyes light up. "I couldn't agree more. Say the word and I'm with you."

That might've been the first real bit of good news I'd heard since I arrived. Well, second. The first would be finding out that Kaidan was going to be okay. "The Normandy wouldn't be the same without you, Doctor," I beamed. "Grab your gear. We're at Docking Bay D24."

"Yes, Commander," she said. "And thank you."

"Don't thank me so soon," I cautioned. "Remember: _Joker_ is still aboard."

Dr. Chakwas arched an eyebrow. "And I'd be surprised if he's been remembering his medication."

Heh.

As Dr. Chakwas headed off, I went to see Dr. Michel. She was just wrapping up her consult when I arrived. "Commander Shepard," she greeted me warmly. "Good to see you."

"Dr. Michel, it's been a long time," I returned. "You've come a long way from that small clinic down in the Wards." **(3)**

"Because of you. I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't dealt with Fist and his thugs. Or Banes. Now I'm head physician at Huerta Memorial. You gave me this chance."

"Eh, you did it on your own," I waved it off. "I just dealt with some things that weren't normal occupational hazards."

She smiled briefly. "I assume you're here about Major Alenko? The head trauma was severe, but we reduced the swelling quickly. These types of injuries can go either way. He hasn't regained consciousness yet, but his vitals are strong so I'm optimistic. You can go see him if you like. He's just down the hall."

"Kaidan's only gonna be the first," I said. "This war may leave a lot of injured people homeless. Can the Citadel clinics and hospitals care for them all?"

"We're fine now, but I'm worried," Dr. Michel admitted. "Every hospital on the Citadel is preparing for the worst. I hear the docks are tightly controlled, but we just can't leave people floating out there forever. Sooner or later, they'll have to come in and when they do…"

"How are you holding up as far as medical supplies go?"

"We're well-stocked for now, but I can't say I'm not worried. We've had to post guards on our reserves. War profiteering has already begun."

Ah yes. Another chance for people to make a quick credit or two off of other people's desperation. Really tugs at the ol' heartstrings. "Well, I'm sure you hear about it before it becomes a serious problem," I said. "With a centre of this size, you must get a lot of direct reports. And challenging."

"We've got twelve full-time doctors and over fifty support staff," she said. "It can be overwhelming, despite all the staffing. Quite different from my days in the Wards. But it's an exciting challenge."

Yeah, I had a feeling that she wouldn't have it any other way. "Keep up the good work, Doctor."

"You too, Commander."

* * *

><p>With that done, I headed over to the inpatient wing. A pair of doctors were just leaving Kaidan's room when I arrived. "Patient's stable for now," one of them, a salarian said.<p>

The other doctor, a human, wiped some sweat off her brow. "That was touch-and-go. Good work, Dr. Fraelik."

Dr. Fraelik didn't pay much attention to the compliment, his mind on other concerns. "Neurosplint's still the best course of action, Dr. Perry."

"I'll see if we have the required stratial bindings. Meet you back here in a minute?"

"Sounds good."

I passed them and entered Kaidan's room. He had the whole room to himself. There were a couple chairs by his bed. A picture frame and a bookshelf filled with medical journals and magazines behind him. And a window, curtains drawn back, that gave another breathtaking view of the Presidium. Not that he could enjoy it. He was still unconscious. I watched him for a while, just lying there. Not moving. Barely breathing. "Hey, Kaidan," I said at last.

The beeping of the nearby monitors was my only reply.

"Don't know if you can hear me, but since you can't tell me to get the hell out either… I'm gonna take my chances," I continued. "Don't die, Kaidan. You've got to fight. You've got to come back. We need you in this.

"You know, seeing you in action again… it reminded me you're a hell of a soldier. The Alliance could sure use you. And despite our differences… _I _could use you."

It was only then that I realized that someone else had entered the room. Another doctor, judging by his uniform and the charts he was reading on his datapad. "You need anything, doc, let me know."

He looked at me blankly before nodding. Guess he didn't recognize me or realize I was a Spectre. As far as he was concerned, I probably wasn't the first friend of a patient who'd given him an oddball request. "Come on, Kaidan," I implored. _"Fight." _

Dr. Perry came in. Guess they were gonna do that stratial neurosplint whatsit thing. Time for me to clear out and give them some room. I left Kaidan, but not before saying one last thing:

"And that's an order."

* * *

><p>As I jogged out of the hospital, I overheard various news reports. Something about some movie. Turian something and dermal tissue. I paused to hear one story, though: <em>"The Council calls these invaders 'Reapers,' the same term once used by disgraced Commander Shepard—" <em>

The elevator doors sealed shut, cutting off that report. Guess the Council can't dismiss the Reapers now, even if I was still disgraced in their eyes.

Its biometric sensors scanned me and greeted me with a pleasant _"Welcome, Commander Shepard." _It had done that the first time too, though I'd been too preoccupied to really register it. _"Please select a destination."_

"Citadel Embassies," I said aloud.

"_One moment please."_

It took more than a moment, but we got there without any hiccups. _"Now arriving at Citadel Embassies." _I stepped out and looked around. Big. Open. Clean. Ultra-modern. Well-maintained. Mandatory Avina terminal. Scattering of humans and aliens—the latter consisting of a turian guard, a pair of volus chatting, another turian reading a datapad, a turian trying to mind his own business and a volus chatting with a human.

I headed up the stairs and down a corridor. Over the PA, another news story was airing. _"Illium is under attack. Although the asari colony, Palaven and Earth—"_

What's this? I stopped and looked at the sign over one of the doors. 'C-Sec—Commander Bailey.' Huh. Wonder if he was home?

He was. But he wasn't alone. "There is no anti-humanity conspiracy here, Ms. Al-Jilani," he said patiently. "The Council's simply not granting interviews at this time."

Ah. Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani. Reporter for Westerlund News, specializing in outrage journalism and pandering to popular human opinion, asking loaded questions and taking detours in logic to irrelevant or misleading conclusions. Anyone who wasn't supporting humanity in the most short-sighted and narrow-minded way was a back-stabbing naturally she was a hypocrite who'd made out with at least one asari when she wasn't officially on camera.

I'd met her a couple times before. The first time was after I'd been appointed as the first human Spectre, where she'd accused me of being the Council's latest puppet, a shill to support their interests above humanity's. The second time, she'd accosted me and criticized my choices during the Battle of the Citadel, particularly my decision to save the Council. Both times, I managed to resist the urge to smack her. Others didn't share my restraint: I'd seen images when a krogan had punched her and a volus had kicked her. Good times. **(4)**

"M viewers are going to know that C-Sec and the Council are denying them access."

That wasn't what Bailey had said, but why let truth get in the way of a good story? Either Bailey had had a bad day or al-Jilani had twisted his words into one too many sound bites. Or both. "Listen, lady," he groaned, "you think I _like _playing gatekeeper between the paparazzi and the politicians? I don't have time to babysit them and I'm not here to hold your hand."

"Well I'm camping out until I'm granted an audience." She didn't say it, but with the childish tone in her voice, she might as well have stamped her feet and added "So there."

"Fine." He gestured towards the door, a not-so-pleasant smile on his face. "I hope you brought a sleeping bag."

She stomped out the door, only slowing slightly when she passed me and recognized my ugly mug. I smiled and waved at her before hitting the door controls. "Commander Shepard? Commander, humanity has questions!" she managed before the doors closed.

"Nice to see some things haven't changed," I joked.

Bailey grunted. "Damn press."

"I see you're keeping the peace," I said, sitting down.

"Yeah, I feel like a glorified doorman."

"You don't see this promotion as a move up?" I guessed.

"Wedged in here with all the stuffed shirts?" he laughed. "I'd rather be back down on the streets. I appreciate the higher pay grade, but I'm not a political creature."

"I know more than one guy who found himself—or herself—in similar situations," I admitted. "But there's nothing saying you _had _to get promoted. If you didn't want to be upped, why'd you accept?"

"You don't say no to Councillor Udina. Well, maybe _you_ would, but I gotta live here."

Oh. Political interference. And I had to admit, he had a point. I could get away with ignoring Udina because I had the luxury of coming and going as I pleased. Bailey didn't have that option.

"I know the ol' saying. Squeaky wheel gets the oil and all that. But I _didn't _lobby for a promotion like _some other_ officers."

Translation: despite the fact that he'd stooped to accepting the occasional bribe and looked the other way once or twice, he hadn't been a brown-nosing, ambitious sycophant who'd sucked up to the bosses and the politicians.

"I'm not even sure why he picked me. Never know with politicians. I hate this BS."

"Don't lose your edge," I cautioned. "You might need it. I know it's hard to believe when you have to deal with the al-Jilanis and the politicos, but…"

"Wouldn't mind an excuse to get my fingers dirty," he sighed. "And I'm not talking about the press or the politicians." I think he was gonna say something else, but then he glanced at his monitor. He had a news feed running in the background and, from what I could glimpse, none of it was good. "It's killing me about Earth," he said soberly.

"You and me both."

"I haven't been back in years," Bailey admitted. "Now I may never. If this ain't the end of days… it's pretty damn close." He shook his head. "You know, I was gonna go back there. Eight… maybe nine months ago? To visit my kids. Son… daughter…" Then he broke down. He didn't cry, but I could see the worry and pain and grief in his face. "They're still on Earth. Never got the chance to tell 'em how much I love them. Now…"

I remembered how he helped me find Kolyat, the son of one of my squadmates when I was preparing to stop the Collectors. Part of his willingness stemmed from his regret that he was a divorced father who might not have raised his kids as well as he would have liked. No wonder he was so upset. "I'm sorry, Bailey," I said softly. "I've got family too. My mom. My sister. **(5)** I have no idea where they are or whether they're okay."

Bailey took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm just like everyone else," he said, his voice returning to his usual gravelly tone. "Losing myself in things I can control. Or pretend I can, anyway. And at the moment, that means creating the illusion of security here."

Bailey clearly needed a distraction. Fielding questions was as good a choice as any. The fact that the answers would satisfy my curiosity was completely coincidental. "'Illusion of security'?" I echoed. "Thought things were relatively quiet here."

"Well, compared to where you're coming from, sure." Bailey managed to get that out without thinking of Earth or breaking down. "But the war's being felt everywhere and it's only just begun. Millions across the galaxy have been displaced already. Most of them came here—or they will, if past crises are any indication."

"Must have you doing somersaults," I said sympathetically.

Bailey laughed ruefully. "Already allocated the bulk of my men to Customs, but we're still overtaxed cataloguing and processing them all."

"The political side of your new job probably isn't helping," I said.

"You kidding? With the Reapers running roughshod through the galaxy, it seems like the Council is in constant session. We got more ambassadors and dignitaries here than ever before pleading their cases. But that's just the tip of the iceberg, really."

"Is the Citadel gearing up for war?" I wanted to know.

"Not really," Bailey admitted. "Truth is, there's a false sense of security here. An illusion, like I said. Even people from worlds that have gone down act like they're safe." He shook his head sadly. "I guess it's not just human nature. We all lie to ourselves to deal with horror."

Yep. For the moment, that meant lying to myself about the chances of this miracle Prothean weapon coming through to save the day. Never mind building the damn thing in the first place. "Yeah. Tell me about it," I said.

We sat there for a moment, thinking about our own troubles. Our own problems. Our shared misery. "You were saying that Udina made you Commander?" I asked at last.

"Yeah, he's become an even bigger shot around here. Got a lot of ambition."

Tell me something I don't know.

"He suspected Executor Pallin was conspiring against the Council and had me investigate."

Now _that _I couldn't believe. When I'd met him, the head of C-Sec was a stickler for upholding and obeying the law. He wasn't a fan of humans, but mostly because we were running amoklike the new kids on the block with a cavalier disregard for the rules. He definitely didn't like Spectres because he felt they acted above the law. Needless to say, he and Garrus didn't get along.

To imagine _him _breaking the law to go behind the Council's back was hard to imagine. "I can't picture Pallin doing that," I admitted. "Mind you, it _has _been a few years since I last met him. Did you find anything incriminating?"

"Enough to arrest him," he admitted. "When Pallin resisted… I was forced to kill him. Udina rewarded me with the promotion. Screwed up my plans to go back to Earth and see my kids. Near as I can tell, being a commander just means I'm putting out different fires."

With an effort, I got to my feet. "Speaking of which, we both have jobs to do, Bailey. I guess we better get back to work."

"Figure you're right. Good talking to you, Shepard."

* * *

><p>I wasn't just making it up: I had to get back to work. For the moment, that meant crossing the hall and entering the office marked 'Earth Councillor—Donnel Udina.' An asari assistant greeted me when I stepped in. "Commander. Councillor Udina said you'd be coming."<p>

"Yeah. Where is he? And Dr. T'Soni?"

"Meeting with the Council. If you'll follow me?"

We went down another hallway to another elevator, over to the Citadel Tower and up, up and away to the Council Chambers. Where all important decisions regarding the fate of Citadel space were made. Despite the fact that the Reapers were making a mockery of all those decisions.

"We've got our own problems, Councillor. Earth is not in this alone."

Ah, Councillor Sparatus. Turian councillor and perennial skeptic. He'd been the most reluctant to believe that Saren had gone rogue or that the Reapers were coming. And when he was proven wrong? He dismissed any recriminations just as quickly, preferring to change the topic.

At the moment, it looked like he wasn't Udina's favourite turian either. "But Earth was the first Council world hit. By all reports, it faces the brunt of the attack."

"By _your _reports," Valern, the salarian councillor said. Judging by his tone, he'd dismissed them as unreliable.

Liara was facing them as I approached, so she didn't see me coming. I could see her shaking her head, though. Couldn't blame them. Political posturing and dilly-dallying, even now. Figures. "The reports are accurate," I said aloud. "Earth was attacked—by the Reapers."

I looked Sparatus squarely in the eye. To his credit, he didn't shy away. "And it's just the beginning," I added. "We need your help. Everything you can spare."

Valern and Tevos, the asari Councillor, exchanged looks. Apparently they silently decided it was Tevos's turn to speak. "Each of us faces a similar situation. Even now, the Reapers are pressing on our borders. If we lend you our strength to help Earth, our own worlds will fall."

"We must fight this enemy together," Udina insisted.

"And so we should just follow you to Earth?" Valern asked incredulously. I couldn't help but notice the tone in his voice. Agitated. Adversarial. Much more so than any of the other times I'd heard him speak. Interesting, albeit decidedly unhelpful.

To my surprise, it was Sparatus—Councillor Stick-Up-His-Ass—who made a calming gesture. "Even if we were to unite our fleets, do you really believe we could defeat the Reapers?"

Did… did I hear that right? Was he actually humouring us? This was so _weird_. "I don't expect you to follow me without a plan." I left out the part where we didn't really have a plan. Just a vague outline of one. They didn't need to know that. That's what Liara was for. I looked at her.

She took my cue and stepped forward. "Councillors: we have that plan. A blueprint. Created by the Protheans during their war with the Reapers."

"A blueprint for what?" Sparatus asked.

"We're still piecing it together," Liara admitted, activating her omni-tool, "but it appears to be a weapon of some sort." The schematics she'd shown me and Hackett earlier shimmered to life before us for the consideration of The Powers That Be.

Valern frowned. "Capable of destroying the Reapers."

"So it would seem," Liara replied.

"The scale is…" Valern broke off, shaking his head. "It would be a colossal undertaking."

"No," I disagreed. "I forwarded the plans to Admiral Hackett. The rest of the Alliance fleets are already gathering resources to begin construction. **(6)**

"Our initial calculations suggest it is very feasible to build," Liara added. "Hardly a 'colossal undertaking'."

"_If _we work together," I amended, staring pointedly at The Powers That Be.

"Have you considered that the Reapers destroyed the Protheans?" Tevos pointed out. "What good did this weapon do?"

"It was incomplete," Liara explained. "There was a missing component. Here. Something referred to only as the Catalyst. But they ran out of time before they could finish building it."

Sparatus leaned forward. "Do you really believe this can stop the Reapers?"

Here we go… "Liara believes it can work and so do I," I said firmly. "We have the blueprints right here, right now. Mere days into this war. If we start this now, together, we'll have more time to build it than the Protheans ever did."

I paused before looking at Udina. "And while I haven't always agreed with Udina, he's right about this… we need to stand together. Now more than ever."

Udina looked startled to hear that. Couldn't blame him: I was being nice when I said we 'hadn't always agreed.' The words felt weird coming out of my mouth. Sounded weird too. But it was the truth. Strange bedfellows and all that. "The Reapers won't stop at Earth. They'll destroy every organic being in the galaxy if we don't find a way to stop them. Together."

Sparatus and Tevos looked at Valern, pointedly—or so it seemed to me—ignoring Udina. He shook his head. Udina's shoulders slumped. Aw, crap.

It was Tevos who broke the bad news. "The cruel and unfortunate truth is that while the Reapers focus on Earth, we can prepare and regroup."

Translation: they were going to use humanity as cannon fodder. A meat shield. A galactic sacrifice. Udina dropped his face in his hands, the very picture of dismay.

"We are convening a summit amongst our species," Valern said. "Humanity is welcome to attend, of course. If we can manage to secure our own borders, we may once again consider aiding you."

"Gee. Thanks." That's me: the eternal diplomat.

"I'm sorry, Commander," Tevos apologized. "That is the best we can do."

I guess I shouldn't expect anything else. They offered the best of nothing, which was—hang on, let me do the math, carry the one and so on—nothing. But still… Anderson had sent me to the Citadel to plead humanity's case before the Council and get help. I'd done all that for nothing. I'd failed. I'd failed Anderson. I'd failed the Alliance. I'd failed _everyone_.

Tevos and Valern left the Council Chambers without looking back. Sparatus, to my surprise, exchanged looks with me, Liara and Udina. He almost seemed… sympathetic. But then he too departed. And then it was just the three of us. "Shepard," Udina said quietly. "Meet me in my office."

"I hope that's an offer of support," Liara said as Udina departed. I gave her a look. She quickly conceded the point and moved on: "I'll be doing more research on this Prothean device, Shepard. Go through my old files, dig up whatever I can."

"Thanks, Liara," I sighed. "Meanwhile, I guess I'll pay Udina a visit."

* * *

><p>As much as Udina was a diplomat and politician, he could be rather harsh and blunt. In the tone of his voice, if not the content.<p>

"They're a bunch of self-concerned _jackasses_, Shepard."

It was nice to see that that hadn't changed.

Udina strode right by me and stared out the window, fists clenched in frustration. "The _Council_," he spat in derision. "You saved their lives three years ago, and for what? A spot on the Council, which is meaningless as humanity will _always _be considered second-rate. Apologies that boil down to 'maybe later.' If we don't figure out something, 'Maybe Later' will just be an epitaph on a mass grave of eleven billion."

Plus the countless billions and trillions of lives across the galaxy. "I was afraid that something like this might happen, but I didn't think they'd be so blind."

"They're scared," Udina sneered. "And they're looking out for themselves, as they always have."

"Our people are scared and we're looking out for them the best we know how."

Udina and I turned. It was Councillor Sparatus. Somehow, he'd entered when our backs were turned. And he'd just heard our raw, uncensored criticisms of The Powers That Be. Oops. "Councillor," Udina greeted him neutrally.

"Councillor," I echoed. "I appreciate that you may think that that's the best way to respond, but it's not. Hiding amongst yourselves will just allow the Reapers to divide and conquer us all one by one."

"Commander, you may be right, but I'm afraid I can't give you what you need."

Figures.

"But I can tell you how to get it."

I resisted the urge to clean my ears, but I could swear my hearing was off. It sounded like someone from The Powers That Be was offering… _help_. And not just any Councillor, but Councillor 'We've dismissed your claims, warnings, data, analyses and conclusions despite the fact that we weren't there.' Once again:_ this was so weird_. "I'm listening," I prompted.

"Primarch Fedorian called the war summit that we mentioned earlier in the Council session, but… we lost contact with him when the Reapers hit Palaven. Those meetings won't proceed without him."

Made sense. The turians were always the most militaristic of the Council species. There was a reason why turians were allowed to build the most dreadnoughts under the Treaty of Farixen.

"The Normandy is one of the few ships that can extract Primarch Fedorian undetected."

I looked at Sparatus for a minute. "Let me see if I get straight," I said. "Right now, there is no single coordinated plan on how to respond to the Reaper invasion. No strategy on where to deploy fleets or armies, no idea of where they fight or with whom. Hence a war summit where various races can get together and hash out some kind of plan. But the man who organized all of this—and thus might have a bit more influence than most—the man who would represent your people is currently MIA.

"So you're proposing that I take the Normandy to Palaven, sneak through all those Reapers and somehow manage to extract Primarch Fedorian."

"Precisely," Sparatus approved. "A grateful Primarch would be a tremendous ally in your bid to unite us behind your plan."

Oh for crying out loud. I could see the sense behind it, but did I really have to run around the galaxy gathering allies? _Again_? Hadn't I done this song-and-dance enough times? "You do realize you're asking me to play politician in the middle of a war."

"If it gets you what you need, what does it matter?"

It mattered because it was yet another chapter in the never-ending story of my life. The one where I never got anyone who simply said "Sure, Shepard. You're absolutely right. Let me help you. No hesitation. No doubt. No second-guessing. No bargaining or negotiating or asking for you to do something first. Nope, I'm just gonna have your back right from the get-go."

Once upon a time, I would've just thrown up my hands and played along. Maybe I would do that in the future, just 'cuz old habits die hard. Right now? Right now I was getting a little tired of playing this game. Time to start a new one: "Even if we do this, can you guarantee that Primarch Fedorian will support the Alliance's plan to build the Prothean device and deploy the might of the Hierarchy to help take back Earth?"

To his credit, Sparatus at least made the pretence of considering my question before admitting "No."

"All right then," I said. "Let's say I take the Normandy straight to Palaven as soon as possible without any detours or pit stops. I'm willing to extract the Primarch and bring him to the war summit. But only on two conditions: first, I need you to exert every ounce of pressure and influence to convince him to provide the resources, manpower and expertise to build the Prothean device and retake Earth."

"I can do that," Sparatus agreed.

Good. I figured as much. Get the politician to agree to make a few more promises, none of which he might actually keep. More of the same. But he said yes. Which might make my next request a little easier: "Second: as a gesture of good faith, I need you to reassign some turians to assist Admiral Hackett in whatever way he sees fit.

"I know," I quickly added before Sparatus could choke on his gizzard, "It's a lot to ask for, especially in these difficult times. But there's no denying the fact that you're asking me—through unofficial back channels, I might point out—to use Alliance resources in order to help the turian people. All I'm asking is a bit of reciprocation. A few turian resources to help humanity. And this is Admiral Hackett we're talking about. You _know _he'll make sure that he'll use what he's given to help everyone—humans, turians and everyone else—against the Reapers."

"This… may take some doing," Sparatus said at last.

I found a nearby chair, sat down and propped my feet up on Udina's desk. "Hopefully you'll get a response before the comm channels get bogged down. It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

The Councillor stared at me with an inscrutable expression on his face before retreating to a corner. I caught Udina's eye. "Too much hardball?" I asked.

He shoved my feet off his desk and brushed a few specks of imaginary dirt off. "It's not the tactics I disagree with," he sniffed.

Picky, picky.

It seemed to take forever, but Sparatus eventually came back. "I contacted Palaven Command," he told us. "They were… reluctant, to say the least, but I managed to convince them to reassign the 79th Flotilla to your Admiral Hackett.

I wouldn't realize until later how significant that was. The Turian 79th Flotilla had first demonstrated their courage and resolve during the Krogan Rebellions, when they sacrificed dozens of their ships to bring down krogan warships assaulting Digeris. Since then, they'd become known for their skill in employing both speed and stealth to launch hit-and-run attacks, divert fire and make bombing runs on enemy ground units. For Palaven Command to give up such a decorated group was a monumental gesture, one that suggested we weren't in this alone. _I_—and whatever ragtag band of misfits I'd managed to con into tagging along—wasn't in this alone.

But I didn't know that at the time. All I knew was that I got more than I expected, simply because I put my foot down. So all I said was "Thank you, Councillor. Did Palaven Command manage to provide a more specific location fix on Primarch Fedorian? You said he was somewhere on Palaven."

"We lost contact with him when the Reapers invaded Palaven," Sparatus corrected. "Along with the rest of our colonies. **(7)** According to our latest intelligence reports, the Primarch was moved to a base on Menae, Palaven's largest moon."

Well, at least we'd be searching a moon instead of a planet. Though that was still a _lot _of ground to cover.

"I've done all I can to help," Sparatus said. "The rest is up to you."

"It's more than we had a few minutes ago," I replied. "Thank you."

Sparatus began walking away, only to stop and turn back. "There is one other thing."

Great. Yet another request.

"The Council wanted me to tell you…"

Oh, I was wrong: they wanted me to go jump in a lake. Luckily for them there was one outside in the Presidium.

"We've chosen to uphold your Spectre status."

Sparatus activated his omni-tool. Seeing how my own omni-tool lit up, I looked down. I'd received a file… yep, it was official. I was a Spectre. Still. Though the last time my Spectre status was reinstated, it meant absolutely squat.

"And various resources will be made available to you."

Say what now? This was… new. It was still open to debate whether these were actual resources of value or just useless junk and empty promises, but it was a step further than anything I'd gotten from them before. **(8)**

"Good day."

I waited until Sparatus left before turning to Udina. "Well, that was… unexpected."

"It's a start," he said. "Like you said, it's more than we had earlier. I'll talk to the others in the meantime. See if we can support this summit and move things along. Amongst other things."

"Like what?"

"Humanity has created some goodwill in the galaxy. Now we cash in our chips. I will get what funding I can, what materials I can and spread the message: help the humans, help yourselves."

Catchy war slogan, I guess.

"I'll institute a draft in our colonies and order all civilian ships armed. Work on the Prothean device will be around the clock."

"Sounds good," I said, "though you'll want to be careful about arming civilian ships. Not all of them can be readily upgraded for military purposes. If you're not careful, all you'll do is turn them into a target instead of an asset."

Udina looked at me thoughtfully. "Talk to Admiral Hackett to coordinate that," I urged. "He'll be able to offer advice on whether it's feasible and—if so—how."

"Fair enough," he relented.

"Speaking of Anderson…" I paused, "any news from Earth?"

"There is constant news… all of it bad."

Shit.

"The Reapers are destroying satellites and the old nuclear missile silos, along with _everything_ else that could help. We have a handful of quantum entanglers spread out over the continent. All other communication is cut."

At least we wouldn't be completely out of the loop. "Did you know anyone from Earth?"

"Many. It's monstrous to think of them being snuffed out, of course, but the part that gets me in Arcturus."

"Arcturus," I gasped. "They hit there too?"

Udina looked at me blankly. "Didn't you—wait, I forgot. You were still being court-martialled and had limited access to anything when the Reapers invaded. From what I heard, Arcturus Station was the first human target they hit."

"But what about our colonies at Terra Nova or Eden Prime?" I frowned. The only way to Arcturus Station would go through the relays near those colonies. "Didn't we put up a fight there?"

"I don't know," Udina shrugged. All I know is that the Reapers attacked Arcturus Station, held off several of our fleets while the rest poured through into the Sol system. You know what happened to Earth. As for Arcturus Station… it fell. Our best case is that it was destroyed, along with the majority of men and women stationed there.

"I must know… I must _have_ known most of the Alliance Parliament on a first-name basis," he amended. "I required a second VI just to keep track of all their birthdays and anniversaries. Rose garden stuff, I know, but to have it all gone…" he trailed off and shook his head.

"Yeah, I wish there was more we could have done," I sighed. "Isn't there something else you can do when the other Councillors block you like this?"

"With Prime Minister Shastri and the rest of Parliament destroyed, I have more power than any human in history. In effect, I'm now the political leader of the Alliance. But today, you saw how little that matters. Rest assured; I will not be counted out for long. Today's not over yet. I know I can move mountains. Do not lose sight of that, because the task before us is moving planets."

I wasn't sure whether he was quoting that or slipping into speech-mode. Whatever it was, he wasn't kidding when he said we had a lot of work ahead of us. "Anderson would be proud," I told him. "But only if all of us can deliver. I'll do my part. What about you?"

"You need a carrot or a stick to drive a mule and humanity has neither right now," Udina said bluntly. "Our armada is tied down fighting or fleeing, and with Earth's comm buoys gone, our economy is reduced to an IOU. But leave that part to me. I will lean on our colonies for all they're worth, and I can broker enough trade to repair and resupply Hackett's fleets."

"Well, at least there's that," I sighed. "What's your read on the Councillors? Any angles I could pursue?"

"Tevos is a diplomat and compromiser, but she's wrapped up in defending asari space like a mother panther," Udina replied. "As long as that's a concern, she won't care about anything else."

That would explain why Tevos politely shot down any hint of cooperation. Asari were usually the ones to offer conciliatory gestures. They were known throughout the galaxy for negotiating, compromising and other aspects of diplomacy. The threat the Reapers posed to Tevos's people was overriding all that.

"Valern is out of his depth. The salarians like their wars won before they start. They're frightened now."

Made sense. Salarian military doctrine called for them to know everything about their enemy's assets, resources, positions, intentions and timetables beforehand—thus allowing them to move their assets into position, strike first and effectively win their wars in the first few hours or days. None of that was possible with the Reapers. No wonder Valern was so belligerent and stubborn: he was hiding how freaked out he was.

"There's not much more you can do with either of them. As for Sparatus? I'd take what he offers. It's a strange day when the _turians _are the least hostile to humans, and there's a need there."

By now, I think I'd established that it was seriously weird, but that seemed to be part of the territory. "Yeah, that sounds like my best plan," I agreed. "I should go then."

"I'll be here."

* * *

><p>I decided my next step should be to test out how genuine The Powers That Be were when they said they would make resources available to me. As it turned out, the Spectres had an office in the Citadel Embassies, right across the hall from Udina's office.<p>

I'd never been to the Spectre Office before, so I was interested to see what it looked like. It wound up being a dimly lit hallway that expanded to a slightly better lit room. Most of the illumination came from the various computer displays that were clustered around a couple terminals. There was also a shooting range and weapons bench, for testing weapons before and after modification, I guess.

First, I thought I'd check out the Requisitions Terminal. There were only a couple weapons available, all of which cost way too much. Any one of them cost over 200 000 credits and I only had 35 000. You'd think that they'd give them out at a discount at least considering that only Spectres had access to them, but noooooooooooo. And I really liked the idea of the Black Widow sniper rifle. According to the specs, it had less power than the Widow sniper rifle I'd picked up midway through my quest to stop the Collectors, but it could hold more shots per clip. Not a bad compromise—if I could ever scrounge up enough credits to afford it.

Next was the Spectre Terminal, which wound up being a repository of intel. Whoever was responsible for updating it, though, decided there were only two things Spectres needed to know. First was a welcome message. Yippee. The second was a message regarding some quarian named Jen'Volan nar Neema. Seemed that, while he was on his Pilgrimage, he'd gotten a lotta credits from the Flotilla, which he used to buy high-end weapon mounts, kinetic barrier emitters and other military-grade tech. Another quarian had been tracked all the way to Illium. Apparently, he was searching for a ship that had been lost near the Perseus Veil. He wound up being recalled. The conclusion was that the quarians were recalling their pilgrims and upgrading their ships to be combat-ready against someone. The fact that they hadn't asked for help and other pieces of intel suggested they weren't preparing for the Reapers. Instead, projections suggested they were gearing up for… another round with the geth? Oh for crying out loud. I hoped this intel was right. If not… damn it, I didn't have time to go over there and spank those idiots.

Basically there was nothing except a few scant intel reports and some tantalizing, but overpriced, weaponry. There wasn't anything else for me to do, so I left the Spectre Office and started wandering around the Presidium. I saw al-Jilani again, trying to get my attention. I decided to ignore her and talk to James instead.

He was staring out yet another giant window, which showed yet another incredible view of the Presidium. "Hey, Commander," he greeted me when I stopped next to him. "I bumped into Liara earlier. She told me the Council's not interested in helping us." He shook his head. "Guess I'm not surprised. I mean, why would they? Look at this place. There's no war here. People are whispering about it. They're talking about it. But they don't really believe it."

There was a sense of disappointment about him. I thought about that and compared it with the way he'd acted when we left Bay D24. "I take it this is your first time here? Rubbing elbows with the elite of the galaxy?"

"Yes and no," James replied. "I've been to the Citadel, but never up here on the Presidium. It's… not right. It looks calm and peaceful. But… it's not right. It's just an illusion."

"It was peaceful," I said. "Once."

"But was it?" James asked. "Really? I mean, when push comes to shove, they're just gonna turtle up… hope it don't hit them too, right? They'd rather believe in _this_," he paused, waving a hand at the window and its view of the Presidium, "than face the truth."

"I can hardly believe it myself," I admitted. "I've known about this for over three years—even if two of them didn't count. I saw visions of what would happen if the Reapers arrived, saw what it would mean for us… but to have it actually come to pass? Even now, it feels like everything back on Earth was just another vision. Some kind of nightmare."

"Yeah," James shook his head. "That's what I hate most. It's like this place _wants_ you to forget that."

"Well, we haven't forgotten it," I said. "So what're you gonna do now? Still want to go back to Earth?"

"Hell, yeah. But…"

"But…" I prompted.

"You were right," James admitted. "So was Anderson. We can't stop them alone. Besides, looks like you're gonna have your hands full convincing these _pendejo _politicians to help us. **(9)** And I'm up for it. Whatever it takes."

"Glad to hear it. Because we'll be heading out soon."

"Where?"

"During the Council meeting, we were told that there was going to be a war summit," I said. After the meeting was when things got interesting." I quickly filled him in on what Councillor Sparatus had requested.

"Seems like we're doing something for the turians even though they won't do anything for us," he snorted.

"That's what I thought at first," I agreed. "But it's a step in the right direction. Worst-case scenario: all we get is a turian flotilla to deploy where we see fit. Best-case scenario: the most well-organized and disciplined species in the galaxy owes humanity a favour, will be put in charge of the war summit and would push _our _plan forward."

James shook his head. "I guess. Just seems like a lot of wheeling and dealing to me."

"Welcome to my world," I said wryly.

He made a face. "I'm gonna head down to some of the lower levels where they keep it real. You have some spare time, you should come find me."

"Maybe I'll do that."

While James departed to find something more to his liking, I pondered my next move.

"Commander Shepard! Commander, the people of the Alliance have questions!"

Oh for crying out loud. I guess I might as well get this over with. Plastering a smile on my face, I walked towards her. "You called?"

"Commander Shepard! Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani. Isn't it true that you were on Earth when the Reapers attacked? How do you justify running away while millions of people on Earth die? Is that the best we can expect from the Alliance?"

Right to the point. Some things _definitely _hadn't changed. "I came to get help for Earth," I replied. "For everyone."

"What about all the people suffering while you play _politics_ with the Council?" she challenged. "What about them?"

Maybe it was just my imagination. Or maybe my memory was starting to fade. But I thought I heard a little more emotion in her voice than my past interviews. Granted, she made a career toying with and manipulating with the emotions of her followers.

"How can you stand here while our families die? What are you going to do?"

"Ms. al-Jilani," I said. After a moment's thought, I stepped forward and touched her shoulder. "Khalisah. We're doing everything we can. How are you holding up?"

"Before they cut the feeds… there were so many dead," she said quietly. She definitely wasn't putting on a show for the cameras. Not now, anyway.

"I'm going to stop the Reapers or die trying," I vowed, "but I need help. From the Council. From the other species. Even from you."

"My help?"

"We need to work together if we're going to win this war. Humans and non-humans alike. But it's hard to do that when it's so much easier to pretend nothing's going on. So keep asking the hard questions. Don't let the Council forget about Earth. Don't let your viewers forget that the Reapers are hitting Palaven, Thessia, Sur'Kesh and countless other homeworlds. The sooner we all start working together, the better chance we have of winning this thing."

"I will," Khalisah said. "Thank you, Commander." She shut down her camera drone and began to walk away. Then she paused. "You know, we haven't really seen eye to eye."

"That might be an understatement," I said with a slight smile.

She smiled back. "But I'm glad you're on our side."

I watched her walk away. Hopefully, that headache had been dealt with. I had enough problems on my plate as it was. **(10) **

* * *

><p>A minute later, I got a message from Liara: <em>Heard about Councillor Sparatus's offer. Should take him up on it. Before we do so, visit Barla Von. Presidium Commons, next to Elkoss Combine Arsenal Supplies. He'll point you to some mercs willing to join us.<em>

Barla Von. Now that was a name I hadn't heard in a while. Anderson steered me his way a couple years ago, back when I was trying to find information against Saren. He was a volus financial adviser who was very skilled at moving large sums of money—without leaving a paper trail—for the elite of the Citadel. Diplomats. Ambassadors. Even Spectres. Nothing illegal, mind you. He just knew all the loopholes.

When he wasn't making tons of credits for his clients, he worked as an agent for the Shadow Broker. He was willing to offer his services for free as the Shadow Broker, Liara's predecessor, had been burned by Saren and wanted payback. The Shadow Broker had hired Wrex to deal with Saren—yes, that's how that wonderful friendship started.

He was busy talking to someone when I found him. "_*hiss*_ I wouldn't go to the settled worlds," he was saying. "_*hiss* _Larger colonies appear to be priority targets. _*hiss*_ If you're coming to the Citadel, do it soon." He paused and listened. "_*hiss* _Certainly, look me up. _*hiss*_ Business will keep me here for some time. _*hiss*_ Call me when you have the information." Another pause. "_*hiss* _No, I'll send you a different number. _*hiss*_ This connection isn't absolutely secure."

Nice to see it was still business as usual.

"_*hiss* _Commander Shepard," he greeted me. "_*hiss* _It's been some time."

"Barla Von," I returned. "Last time I saw you was when Anderson sent me your way."

"_*hiss* _Indeed. _*hiss* _I heard about Admiral Anderson. _*hiss*_ I admire the courage it took for him to stay and fight on your homeworld."

"As I recall, when you weren't handling financials, you were working for the Shadow Broker."

"_*hiss* _I still am. _*hiss*_ The Broker has been exceedingly busy lately. _*hiss*_ In fact, you may be in a position to assist him."

I'm sure Liara would be amused to hear she had switched genders. "Go on."

"_*hiss* _A team of his guards have become stranded in a Reaper-controlled territory. _*hiss*_ Rescue the guards, and they're yours. _*hiss*_ The Shadow Broker fully supports your efforts against the Reapers."

Well, at least someone did. "I appreciate the information."

"_*hiss* _Just don't wait too long to act on it," Barla Von cautioned. "_*hiss* _The Reapers are advancing all too quickly."

Really? I hadn't noticed.

"_*hiss* _Come see me once you've completed the extraction. _*hiss* _I'll be in my office a while longer. _*hiss* _The galactic market is in… _*hiss* _considerable flux."

Yeah. That's putting it mildly. "Is that why you're here?"

"_*hiss* _I had plans to return to Irune, but business here keeps luring me back. _*hiss*_ Perhaps it's for the best, all things considered."

Yeah. For now. Soon… nowhere would be safe.

With that cheerful thought in mind, I headed back to the Normandy. Clock was ticking, after all.

"Commander Shepard?"

Not again. I turned around started. "Emily Wong?"

The last time I'd met he, she was an investigative journalist. I helped her out by passing her some information on Fist's crime syndicate. After I returned from the dead, I found out she'd moved up to become a newscaster for Future Content Corporation. She sent me an e-mail requesting an interview. Never had the chance to follow up on that.

"Long time no see," she smiled. Well, tried to. It was a bit forced. "Last I heard, you were on Earth. Glad to hear you got out."

"You too."

"Yeah," she sighed. "I was… I was lucky. I was supposed to report on comm buoy outages in the Sol system, but was recalled for another assignment. Both assignments were cancelled once word of the Reapers got out."

"Breaking news?"

"Something like that." She shuddered. "All this time… you know, people heard about your warnings. You kinda came off as a little… out there. No offence."

"None taken," I replied. "And what did you think?"

"Maybe I wanted to get your side of the story," she said.

"Through an exclusive interview?" I suggested.

"A girl can dream." Her gaze drifted off, as she looked around the Presidium. "Weird to see everyone acting so calmly. I don't think they really grasp what's happening. Not yet, anyway."

"I guess not," I agreed. "But that'll change. And when it does…"

"Maybe I can help."

"How?" I asked, looking at her.

"Take me with you. As a war correspondent."

"What?"

"People are trying to be calm and pretending everything's going normal because they don't know any better. The idea of suddenly being forced into a war on all fronts? Against an enemy that no one knows about? One that just steamrolls through anything in its past and has already conquered several colonies and homeworlds in a matter of hours or day? People feel helpless. They're pretending that nothing's wrong because they know the truth is so much scarier and they don't know what they can do to stop it. If they knew what was going on out there, that they weren't alone, that there were ways for them to contribute to the war effort, that there was _hope_, that might change."

"And you can do that by following me around?"

"Most of my career has been spent in investigative journalism."

"There's a difference between rooting out corruption and entering a war zone. Do you have any training at all?"

"Not much," Emily admitted. "But I've thought about that. I'm not asking you to take me along on your missions. That… that would be bad. For everyone. No, if you take me, I'd stay on your ship. I wouldn't interfere."

"You realize that I'm both an Alliance soldier and a Council Spectre, right?"

"My producers have been preparing this for a while. In fact, FCC just finished negotiating with Alliance Command. I've been granted a temporary security clearance. There are pages of restrictions, but what it basically boils down to is that I can't file any stories without your authorization."

"And you're okay with that?" I asked.

"I understand the need to control the flow of information in order to avoid compromising the security of any missions or the safety of the men and women involved," Wong carefully replied. "I'm hoping you can balance that with the freedom of the press and the right—the _need_—for people to know what's going on out there."

I thought about it. It wouldn't be the first time that war correspondents were embedded with the troops. It could be useful for morale. And I did have a tenuous working relationship with her, one that had her looking favourably upon me. Still, it might be more trouble than it was worth. "I'd have to think about it," I admitted.

Emily fumbled with a datapad, hastily typing something before handing it over. "I understand. Here are the details of my proposal, my credentials, the clearance I mentioned and my contact information. Think it over and get back to me."

* * *

><p>With that done, I headed back to Docking Bay D24. "Ma'am, I can't say when we're deploying or where or why."<p>

That voice sounded familiar. Turning around, I recognized the face. Sort of. Vaguely. He was one of the guys I saw on the Normandy as we were flying to the Citadel. An ensign. What was his name? Copley? Copen? Note to self: get the goddamn crew manifest ASAP.

"But you're on the Normandy, right? I saw it dock. It was last seen on Earth… did Commander Shepard escape? He did, didn't he? So why would he be here? Unless he's seeing the Council? Did he? Did he see the Council? Did he get their help in taking back Earth?"

So many questions. Must be a reporter. Third time this day. What were the odds? I took a closer look. A reporter wearing a skin-tight civvie dress. Not sure if that fit the dress code. But I saw another camera drone hovering over her shoulder.

"Ma'am, I can't talk about that," Ensign… Copeman? repeated.

"You don't have to."

Aw, crap. I've been made.

"Commander Shepard?"

Giving up, I stepped forward. "Ensign? What's going on here?"

Ensign Copeland—finally figured out his name!—looked relieved. "Yes, sir. This woman would like to speak with you." He quickly saluted before hastily retreating. That left me alone with the reporter with the skin-tight dress. White and black. Shiny, like it was made out of some synthetic material. Low-cut. Tits and ass prominently on display. Didn't hold a candle to another woman I really missed. "Can I help you?"

"You're just who I was looking for," she replied. "Diana Allers. Alliance News Network. I think we can help each other."

ANN? Seriously? I thought they had better taste than that. I know, I know: don't judge a book by its cover. **(11)** But since when did they send reporters out dressed like that? "I suppose you want an interview?" I sighed. Here we go ag—

"Even better."

Aw, crap.

"I'm a military reporter with a show called 'Battlespace.' We're carried on just about all Council planets."

Never heard of it. Though that doesn't necessarily mean anything. I _had _been out of touch for the last six months or so.

"My producers want me embedded on a human ship, and I want that ship to be the Normandy."

Uh oh.

"You do? And why would I want that?" I asked warily.

Allers launched into her sales pitch. "Wars can be won or lost in the editing room. And this war needs to be won. I've got Alliance security clearance and can operate without a crew. You get veto power over the segments I file. Can you handle an arrangement like that, or do I keep looking?"

Cheesy sales pitch, no way to verify her credentials and I didn't have time to manage some random civvie. Not when there was another option. "I'm afraid you're a little late: I've already accepted another reporter."

She wasn't too happy to hear that. "Really? Who?"

"I'm afraid I have to go," I continued. "Best of luck finding another ship to serve with."

"Thanks. I think."

As soon as she moped away, I activated the comm. "Joker? This is Shepard. When will we be ready to depart?"

"_We're loading some supplies right now. Never know when we'll get another chance, right? I'm gonna say… seven hours?"_

"Make it six," I said. I closed the channel and made another call. "Ms. Wong? This is Commander Shepard. I've thought about your proposal."

"_And?"_

"You have a deal. For now. Report to the Normandy's docked at Bay D24. We leave in six hours."

"_Uh… okay. I'll have to tell my producers. Good thing I just got here: all my things are still packed." _

"The Normandy's not exactly a luxury yacht," I cautioned. "You can bring a standard footlocker's worth of clothes and gear aboard. **(12)** That's it."

"_All right. Just one thing."_

"Yeah?"

"_What's a footlocker?" _

* * *

><p>After all the random meetings and various conversations, I didn't think I could be surprised any longer.<p>

"Shepard? Is it… it _is _you."

I should really know better by now. "Miranda?" I breathed.

She turned around from the window she was looking through, the Normandy gleaming proudly on the other side of the glass. She was back to wearing the white-and-black hardsuit she wore when we first met. Minus a certain Cerberus logo. Too bad. I really liked the black –and-orange she's started wearing halfway through. Didn't matter, though: she still looked… _amazing. _"It's so good to finally see you again," she said.

"You too, Miranda. It's been way too long. Did you get my message?"

"If you mean the audio file you asked Anderson to pass on to me, the answer is yes. He was gracious enough to give me some privacy to listen too."

Of course he would. More reason, if any was needed, for me to rally the universe together. The more time wasted dealing with petty rivalries and perennial short-sightedness, the harder it would be to return to Earth in time to save Anderson.

"I do have one question, though?"

"You didn't understand why—"

Miranda shook her head. "No, no. I understood the reason why you chose that song. My question was: what _is _it with you and archaic music, anyway?"

"Hey, they're classics!" I protested.

"I've heard enough of your collection to know that not all of them are 'classics'," Miranda returned. "If you're about to call me a Philistine, think again." **(13)**

Damn it. She knew me too well.

"I wish I could have seen you again, but I couldn't get anywhere near you when the Alliance had you locked up."

"Relieved of duty," I corrected. "And it's okay. We discussed this before."

"Yes, we did. At best, they would have manipulated us, used us against each other. At worst… well, a visit by the former Cerberus second-in-command would've been disastrous, to say the least."

"I don't know," I said thoughtfully. "You're forgetting the optics of any secret communiqués."

"Oh Lord, yes. That definitely would have looked worse. I'd say there's a… 56% chance that they would arrest me and a 44% chance that they'd simply have me shot on sight. At any rate, I had to play it safe. For both of us. Still, I was tempted to break in and see you—or bust you out."

"That would've been… tough to explain. Optics, arrest, shot on sight, remember?"

"Only if we got caught."

Hee.

"I was keeping tabs on you, though. I'm surprised they didn't court-martial you. The Alliance isn't known for its flexibility."

"They tried. But nothing came out of it. Just a lot of accusations and finger-pointing and grandstanding…" I trailed off, thinking about all the death and destruction I'd seen in the first frantic hours. "But I guess it doesn't matter now. None of it does."

Miranda put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Shepard… about Earth…"

I couldn't face her, so I pulled away and stared very intently at a blank wall. "Countless people lost their lives within minutes, Miranda," I said at last, when I was sure I wouldn't break down. "Snuffed out, just like that. The Reapers are everything we feared."

"They should have listened to you a long time ago."

Preaching to the choir. Though it was a relief to hear that, in some way. A validation of sorts. Especially when it came from her. Still, thinking of all the people who had died, all the people who I could have saved if I found some way to get through to them…

"I'm sorry, Shepard. That wasn't helpful." Miranda put a hand on my shoulder again. This time I let her. "What about you?" I asked. "What brings you here?"

"I need to talk to a few people," she replied. "Like you. The Citadel is a good place to meet… for now. Come on. We need to keep moving."

"To avoid the C-Sec patrols?" I asked. "Or the pair of salarians on our left?"

"Them too. Though I was more concerned about the hanar drifting along on the right. He wasn't very subtle about his movements towards us."

Oops. Missed that. Good thing she didn't. I remembered when we last played this game on the Citadel. We'd just defeated the Collectors. We were going to Illium to intercept a handoff between Cerberus agents—_current _Cerberus agents. It had been a simpler time. I was in the midst of reminiscing when I realized Miranda had asked me a question. "What's the Alliance's next move?" she'd said.

"We have a plan," I admitted.

"That's good."

"It's a long shot."

Miranda burst into quiet laughter. "Not surprising."

Yeah. Guess not. I was about to say something when I noticed the look on Miranda's face. She looked… tense. Worried. Preoccupied. "Hey, Miranda: is everything okay?"

"Not… well… um…"

Coming from Miranda, this was really not good. "What?"

"Shepard… am I still part of your plan?"

I just stared at her blankly.

"It's been so long, I wasn't sure where we stood."

What… was she… how could she possibly think I…

Before I knew it, I was pulling her into my arms. She fit perfectly, just as I'd always remembered. Our lips met and I felt… well… relief. For one moment, all my worries faded away. They were still there. I knew that on some level. But for one moment, I could get away from it all. All that mattered was that Miranda was here. Alive. Safe. With me. That was all I could think of.

When we finally pulled away, Miranda was breathing a little faster than usual. So was I, come to think of it. I reached out and held her hands. "Miranda, things are never going to be easy for us. They certainly won't be normal. But I'll _always_ want you in my life."

"No second thoughts?" she asked, still nervous despite the casual lilt in her voice. "This is your chance to back out."

"None," I said firmly. Immediately. "I was so worried about you."

This time, it was Miranda who made the first move to embrace me. We held each other for a minute. "It was hard to be away with you," she murmured into my shoulder. "I surprised myself with how… attached I got. I'm not good at attached."

"Just stay close from now on, all right?" I pleaded. "I don't think I could handle another separation like that."

She pulled away. Aw, crap.

"I wish I could. I really do… but there's something I need to deal with."

"What is it?" I frowned.

"I haven't heard from my sister for a while. I'm getting worried. I don't want to overreact but… well, there's a lot going on."

"Just because Oriana missed an e-mail reply or two doesn't necessarily mean there's a problem," I pointed out. "I mean, I thought we made sure she was safe."

"We did," Miranda nodded. "It's probably nothing, but… I just know my father is involved."

Her father. Mr. Lawson. Upstanding guy who thought very highly of himself. So highly that he created two daughters—Miranda and Oriana—to follow in his footsteps and establish a legacy. A dynasty, as Miranda had put it. He hadn't even bothered finding some woman of good breeding. Nope, he just took his own genetic code, made extensive modifications to it and popped them out of some birthing chamber. He'd spent Miranda's entire childhood trying to mold her in his image and exacting insanely high standards. Hewanted her to be the best at everything. To know everything. To be perfect. When she had enough, she approached Cerberus. Offered to join them if they helped her get Oriana away and hid her. And that had worked, for a while. But eventually Lawson had found her, by bribing and manipulating one of Miranda's only friends. That betrayal had hurt her dearly.

Miranda had moved heaven and earth to ensure Oriana's safety. She'd watched her from a distance as she grew up, enjoying the normal childhood Miranda had never had. The thought that that might be compromised was the first time she'd ever let her composure slip. The first time where she was more than TIMmy's hand-picked loyal representative. "Why do you think your father was behind Oriana's disappearance? She had a normal life, remember? In a normal life, there are lots of reasons why someone might not get back to you. It doesn't always have to do with abductions, conspiracies and the long-lost father, you know."

"Yes, I know," she fretted. "Which is why I had safeguards and contingencies to prevent as many of them as possible, or at least alert me if something so innocuous had occurred. But everything I had in place to make sure she was safe went dark. All at once. For her to just… vanish without a trace… it could only be him. He has motive, Shepard. After I hid her away again, I still knew he'd stop at nothing to find her. She's all he has left. I realize it's just an assumption, but… it makes _sense_."

To be honest, I wasn't really hearing much in the way of hard evidence. Still, Lawson was the most likely suspect behind Oriana's disappearance. Besides, Miranda was pretty thorough. Only someone with a lot of resources—like their father—could have orchestrated such a kidnapping. "What do you need from me?" I asked.

She smiled. "I knew you'd want to help, and I'm grateful… but you have your hands full. If I need a door or two kicked down, I know just who to call. But for now, I'll be fine. I just have to figure this out."

"You will."

Miranda looked like she could use a distraction, so I did what I did best: pester her with questions. "Have any run-ins with the Illusive Man while I was away?" I asked.

"Just once," she replied. "He said it had been a pleasure to work with me, but he needed to 'contain' the situation."

"High praise if not for the last part," I said. "That sounds kinda final."

"It very nearly was," she admitted. "He doesn't take rejection well."

"Yeah, I got that impression," I smirked. "You know, if you're looking for a lead here, anyone associated with Cerberus will be hard to find. Unless they're attacking Alliance outposts—"

"_What?!"_

"Long story. I'll fill you in later," I said. "Anyway, any Cerberus contacts or agents operating on the Citadel will be a little more circumspect. They certainly won't be parading around with the logo out there on display."

For a second, I saw a wince flicker over Miranda's face. No doubt she was remembering that she and Jacob had done just that once upon a time. Not to mention plastering the logo on the hull of the Normandy. "You have a point," she conceded. "But I'm owed a few favours. Someone here will give me a tip on Oriana."

"Hopefully," I said slowly—not because I doubted her chances, but because my brain was starting to churn away. "You know, I've got an idea."

"Oh dear."

"Funny," I glared at her. Encouraging the development of her sense of humour was becoming a double-edged sword. "Actually, I thought you could join me on the Normandy."

"Join you? Shepard, I…"

"We both have a lot on our plates," I argued. "Do you really think it'll help if each of us is worried sick about the other, wondering whether anything's happened?"

"Shepard, I have to—"

"—find Oriana, I heard. Well, you're in luck: Liara's with me. You remember her… recent career move, right? She's got access to an entire network of resources that she can tap at any time. Camera feeds, spies, crew manifests—she can get it all. And what she sees, you'll see. If you come with me.

"Besides, you remember how much trouble I used to get into."

"Good Lord, do I ever."

"With my luck, I'll get into even more trouble. It would be nice to have someone else I know watching my back. I'll do the same, of course."

"Of course." Miranda hesitated. "But…"

"Oh come on," I whined.

"I have some contacts I had planned to meet here," she insisted. "When are you planning to leave?"

"Six hours."

"I'll be there."

"You better," I warned, pulling her into another embrace. We held each other for a minute before parting ways.

It was hard to see her go. Especially when she'd expressed such concern about our relationship. I wish there was a way to assure her that I wasn't going anywhere. Words alone clearly didn't cut it. At least, not from me.

Then I had an idea.

Activating my omni-tool, I sifted through a certain directory. I needed a file. But not just any file. Maybe, maybe, maybe... yes! I pulled it up and transmitted it over the comm frequency Miranda and I used to use. Hopefully, she was still monitoring it.

I received confirmation after the first verse, when she turned around.

"_When we were young, oh, oh, we did enough.  
>When it got cold, ooh, ooh, we bundled up.<br>I can't be told, ah, ah, it can't be done._

_"It's better to feel pain, than nothing at all._  
><em>The opposite of love's indifference.<em>  
><em>So pay attention now, I'm standing on your porch screaming out.<em>  
><em>And I won't leave until you come downstairs.<em>

_"So keep your head up, keep your love._  
><em>Keep your head up, my love.<em>  
><em>Keep your head up, my love.<em>  
><em>Keep your head up, keep your love." <em>**(14)**

Her smile was perfect. Just like her.

* * *

><p><em>(1): Named after President Christopher Huerta of the United North American States on Earth. <em>

_(2): Which could be an example of Shepard's genetically and surgically enhanced hearing, the fact that Bailey's comm was set too high, or both. _

_(3): Shepard first met Dr. Michel at her clinic on the Upper Wards, back in 2183 when he was looking for proof of Saren's unauthorized activities. She'd endured a fair amount of trouble, first at the hands of the thugs of a local criminal called Fist, then from a blackmailer working for Armistan Banes. _

_(4): These recordings, along with the one with her and the asari, were amongst the various items stored in the Shadow Broker's Video Archive. Shepard would have seen them when he first visited me. _

_(5): Dr. Eleanor Faye 'Ellie' Bartowski Woodcomb—who Shepard regarded as a sister due to their time growing up together. _

_(6): Shepard had had a few conversations with Admiral Hackett before arriving at the Citadel as his scientists and I completed further analyses and compared notes, but this is the first time he mentions it._

_(7): After invading Khar'shan and Earth, the homeworlds of the batarian and human people, respectively, the Reapers attacked the turians. Their first target was Taetrus, a colony made infamous for the site of the worst terrorist attack in turian history after the turian separatist group Facinus rammed a starship into Vallum, the colony's capital city. Hierarchy efforts to take back the colony and stamp out Facinus was regarded as a cathartic moment, proof that heroes would always triumph over evil—which was why the Reapers hit Taetrus first. _

_When the Hierarchy responded, the Reapers wiped them out. Prompted by popular demand, the Hierarchy continued the assault, a move that was ultimately futile. Once the Reapers emerged victorious, they began broadcasting images of Vallum, once more reduced to smoking ruins. _

_(8): Shepard neglects to mention how being a Spectre granted him access to advanced weaponry and materials from C-Sec Requisitions. However, he had since encountered so much skepticism, veiled hostility and denial from the Council since then that it was understandable he'd question any help they offered now. _

_(9): The translation varied from idiot or fool to asshole. Regardless of the exact meaning, it was clear that James was offering a less-than-flattering remark._

_(10): Little did Shepard realize how significant his gesture was. Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani would later reach out with her viewers, pleading for unity and cooperation amongst all galactic species in this unprecedented crisis. Her plea struck a chord, prompting a flood of donations for war relief efforts to both the Alliance and its nonhuman allies._

_(11): A human saying that admonishes against judging an individual by their appearance or by initial surface impressions, as their true character may lie hidden beneath that façade._

_(12): A footlocker is a storage box used to store a soldier's belongings. The name came about as they were essentially lockers located at the 'foot' of a soldier's bunk or bed._

_(13): In human philosophy and aesthetics, a philistine was one who had a narrow-minded perspective, a conventional view on morality, valued materialistic concepts and lacked appreciation in cultural and aesthetic values. Since the 19__th__, century, however, the term became more synonymous with a lack of appreciation in culture or art._

_(14): 'Stubborn Love,' released by The Lumineers in 2012._


End file.
